After the Chamber - Lords and Ladies
by SeerKing
Summary: Set shortly after the Chamber of Secrets, Harry discovers that by defeating Lord Voldemort three time, he has stolen his enemies title of Lord Slytherin. The trouble begins from there... Harry/Multi. T for Language, possible upgrade to M for more adult themes later.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I read a fic by SmallBurnyThing called 'The Reluctant Lord', which I thought was quite good. Sadly, he discontinued it.**

**This fic was born from the inspiration I got while reading 'The Reluctant Lord', but it is in no way connected to it. **

**Unlike my other four stories, this is just a side project that I will update when I have the time and inspiration, so no clamouring for updates.**

**Also, this is a Harry/Multi story. Who is in it? Wait and see.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. He, and all the characters, etc, etc, belong to JK Rowling.**

"Harry" -Speech

'_Ginny_' -Thoughts

/Bill\ -Foreign/Non-human Language

**Chapter 1 - Laws and Ladies**

_Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Early June 1993_

Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, sat in a comfortable armchair near the fire and read the book in his lap with a frown. He was a small, scrawny boy of twelve, with raven black messy hair, emerald green eyes, glasses and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, which he covered up with his long fringe, because he hated it when people stared at his most famous feature.

With an exasperated snort, he closed the book and set off out of the Common Room for the Library to return the book, which was a copy of '_Hogwarts: a History_' he had borrowed on the sly, so his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, didn't find out about it.

The Boy-Who-Lived snorted. Ron would look at his as if he was mad for borrowing the book for anything but whacking Draco Malfoy over the head with it, while Hermione would be ecstatic that he had read it and start bombarding him with questions on what his favourite sections were.

Thinking of Hermione, Harry's face drew slightly taught as he navigated the Grand Staircase. His female best friend had almost been killed earlier that year by Slytherin's Monster, a sixty-foot Basilisk that came _far_ too close to killing her with its deadly killing gaze. Only the fact that the first person she ran into, a Ravenclaw Prefect, Penelope Clearwater, had happened to have a compact mirror on her person had spared Hermione from dying.

Harry shook his head as he walked into the Library and returned the book to the irascible Madam Pince before wandering the shelves to look for a book on his favourite subject, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Thanks to the idiot who had been hired for that post this year, Gilderoy Lockhart, a sham of a wizard who stole the fame from other witches and wizards and erased their memories with the Memory Charm, _Obliviate_, who had taught Harry only one thing in the entire year.

Narcissism in a teacher is the _least_ desirable quality to look for.

He had learned several other charms, hexes, curses and spells from other teachers this year, including the Disarming Charm, _Expelliarmus_, from Professor Severus Snape, the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. Snape was Harry's least favourite teacher by far at Hogwarts, but Harry had felt like cheering like an idiot when the hook-nosed, greasy-haired git had sent the arrogant, foppish popinjay Lockhart flying with this particular spell.

A book caught Harry's eye. It was titled '_When Words Aren't Enough: Spells and Charms for Self-Defence_' by I.N Cognito.

"Incognito? Geh, wizards have no imagination." Harry muttered as he pulled the book from the shelf and sought a table so he could read the book and actually learn some DADA this year.

This year's adventure of Basilisk slaying, he felt, didn't count, as he wasn't likely to get the Sword of Gryffindor every time he was confronted with a Dark Creature like a Basilisk, so spell research it was.

Several of the spells in the book were already known to him from his first year book, '_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection_' by Quentin Trimble, but there were the odd spell that caught Harry's eye and he marked them down on a piece of parchment with a quill.

One of the spells was the Curse of the Bogies that Peeves the Poltergeist had used on him last year. Harry already knew the _counter_-curse from his efforts researching it, but Peeves had somehow cast the spell silently, so he hadn't known the actual spell up until now.

'Mucus ad Nauseam_. At least I can tell Ron about it now._' Harry thought as he scribbled the prescribed wand movement, which resembled a teardrop, next to the curse's incantation.

"Studying at the end of the year, Harry?" a soft voice asked from his side. Harry looked up to see Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts regarding him over his half-moon spectacles with a soft smile.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said in surprise, "Is something wrong?"

"No, no my dear boy." Dumbledore reassured him, "I have merely been informed that the Goblins of Gringotts Wizarding Bank wish to speak to you, although they have not specified the reason."

Harry was confused. He had been in Gringotts before school started with the Weasley Family and they hadn't said anything then.

"Er…OK." Harry took out his wand waved it at the parchment and muttered, "_Aresco_." and dried the ink instantly. The Ink Drying Charm was a very useful tool when dealing with quills.

"A well performed charm there Harry." Dumbledore commented, "Doubtless, you have had quite a bit of practice with it."

"Yeah." Harry admitted as he replaced the book on the shelf, "The ink at Hogwarts takes a long time to dry. When I next visit Diagon Ally, I think I'll invest in some Quick-Drying ink."

"Most ink is quick drying because we use quills, but then as it gets older, the quick drying portion of its makeup fades." Dumbledore explained as he led Harry from the Library, "I think your idea is an excellent one though. I can point you towards my favourite brand, Wicker's One Wipe. No sooner do you write it than it is dry, a marvellous ink really."

"Thank you sir." Harry replied politely, thinking to himself that it sounded more like a brand of toilet paper than ink.

"Sherbet Lemon." Dumbledore told the gargoyle standing guard outside his office, making it spring to one side to reveal the stone escalator leading to his office. Once they were safely ensconced in the room, Dumbledore walked over to the fireplace, which was blazing away merrily, and pulled a pot from the mantelpiece.

Scooping out a pinch of the green powder, which Harry recognised with a flinch as Floo Powder, and threw it into the fire, turning it green.

"This way Harry. Say, 'Gringotts Wizarding Bank' and you'll be taken straight to the main Lobby." Dumbledore directed, "Regrettably, I am not permitted to accompany you, but the Goblins will provide you with Floo Access for the return trip. Simply say, 'Hogwarts, Headmasters Office' in order to return here once your meeting is concluded."

"A-Alright…" Harry said while he eyed the green flames nervously. The first time he had travelled by Floo Powder, he had ended up in Knockturn Ally, the Darker, seedier cousin to Diagon Ally and he did _not_ wish to go there again if at all possible. He had worked out that he should have spoken as an exhale, rather than doing a big inhale as he had done the first time, so resolved to not make the same mistake this time.

Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped into the green flames and shouting, "Gringotts Wizarding Bank!" and vanished.

The travel was just as nauseating as it had been before, making Harry wonder if all the other methods of wizarding travel, broomsticks aside, were as uncomfortable as Floo Travel.

He fell out of the fireplace at the end, ending up arse-over-teakettle somehow and fought his way to his feet, muttering expletives about the Floo Network under his breath.

He looked around once he had recovered sufficiently. It was a fairly large room with a modest desk in the centre and a chair on either end. A goblin was standing next to the desk, looking rather amused at Harry's difficulties with Floo travel.

"Mr Harry Potter, I presume?" the Goblin enquired politely.

"Er…yes. I was told that the Goblins of Gringotts wished to speak to me…?" Harry replied nervously.

"Indeed we do, Mr Potter, indeed we do." the Goblin replied, "Your Account manager will be along momentarily. I am Bludbank, and I am here to greet you. Do you wish refreshments?"

"Will it offend your hospitality if I don't have something?" Harry asked, "I ask because I don't really know a lot about Goblin etiquette."

"Most wizards assume we have none, but yes, it would be offensive." Bludbank replied, looking a touch impressed, "It would imply that you do not trust us not to poison or potion you, which we would never do, as it is bad for business."

"OK then, can I have some pumpkin juice please?" Harry asked.

Bludbank lazily waved one hand and a jug of pumpkin juice appeared on the table, accompanied by a silver goblet. Harry swore to look up silent casting when he got back to Hogwarts.

"Is there anything else I need to know for the meeting?" Harry asked, "I'm afraid I'm muggle-raised and know very little about the Magical World as a whole."

"Hmmm… a scion of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter who doesn't know about etiquette…" Bludbank mused, "Very well then. Do not sit until Account Manager Rockclaw sits. Do not drink while he is speaking and address him as 'Account Manager' or 'Master Goblin' at all times, unless he invites you to call him by his name. Moreover, above all else, do _not_ make mention of your History of Magic Professor Cuthbert Binns. Account Manager Rockclaw cordially detests the ghost professor and has petitioned the Ministry to have a new teacher installed in the History of Magic class at Hogwarts for the past sixty years, ever since his death."

"He'd have my support." Harry remarked, "Only one of my year mates keeps awake in Binns' class."

"Doubtless." Bludbank said dryly, "Now, I must take my leave, Mister Potter. Time is Galleons, after all."

"I hope your endeavours are successful then." Harry said with a nod.

"And may your coffers never run dry." Bludbank replied with a small bow, before exiting through the only door.

Harry trotted over to the jug and poured himself a goblet of pumpkin juice. When he sipped it, it was nicely chilled, exactly as he liked it.

"Mister Potter?" a voice said from the direction of the door, startling Harry slightly. Placing his goblet carefully on the table, Harry turned to see yet another Goblin standing at the door, carrying what looked like an old-fashioned doctors bag.

"Account Manager Rockclaw?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Indeed I am, Mr Potter." Rockclaw replied, "We ordinarily would not have met until your thirteenth year had begun, but circumstances this year have…altered schedules somewhat."

"I…see." Harry said in confusion. The Goblin was deliberately speaking in riddles now, he was sure.

"Let us sit down so we can get to the matter at hand then." Rockclaw said and walked towards the desk and sat on his chair. Harry hastily sat down as well and took another sip of pumpkin juice.

"Now then…the reason you have been called here several months early, Mr Potter, is because a pair of ancient and rarely used laws have been invoked in your name and by your actions."

"Invoked because of something _I've _done? What laws have I broken _this_ time?" Harry asked with an eye roll. The last law he had supposedly broken (the actual culprit being a certain excitable House-Elf named Dobby) had been the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, earning him a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office and virtual imprisonment in Number 4, Privet Drive by his Uncle.

"Broken laws?" Rockclaw raised one whitened eyebrow, "You are labouring under the misapprehension that you are in trouble for some reason, Mr Potter. Rather, the situation is quite to the contrary."

The Account Manager paused for a moment before continuing, his voice solemn.

"You see, the way things work in Magical Britain is, by muggle standards, backwards. Perhaps a better word to use would be 'antiquated' instead." Rockclaw explained, "The ancient laws are bound to magic, which is ruled by intent, rather than to the whims of men, who would twist them to their own devices. In this case, one law detected that you fulfil a series of conditions for its activation. This in turn, because of some other conditions, activated the second law."

Harry considered this for a moment. What Rockclaw had told him thus far jibed with what he currently knew about the Magical World. Old traditions, old technology and etiquette from long before the first car were thought of.

"OK, I am following you so far." Harry said slowly, "So you're saying these laws that have been invoked by my actions are completely autonomous from control by the Ministry or Gringotts?"

"Quite." Rockclaw replied, "They were created when the Wizards Council, the predecessor to the Ministry of Magic, was founded. The particulars are not up to me to tell you, so I would advise asking your Headmaster Dumbledore, as your Magical Guardian, about that situation."

"Right." Harry nodded.

"I must confirm however: have you, in fact, faced and defeated the wizard styling himself as 'Lord' Voldemort three times in a row?" Rockclaw asked, eyes intent.

"Well…twice in person." Harry replied, uncomfortable with the scrutiny he was under, "This year I fought a…a _memory_ of him of when he was sixteen."

"That would be the incident that triggered the laws." Rockclaw mused, "However, it _must_ have been Voldemort, otherwise the law wouldn't have activated."

"The…memory…was draining the life of a First Year student in order to be reborn as a person." Harry explained hesitantly. Dumbledore hadn't told Harry to keep the happenings in the Chamber of Secrets, but he suspected that it would be a bad idea for the entirety of the truth to get out.

"Hmm…most perplexing." Rockclaw frowned, "Well, regardless of what we do not know, the Line and Lineage Conquering Act was activated, so it must have been Voldemort is some shape or form."

"The what?!" Harry asked sharply.

"The first Law that invoked itself on your behalf, Mr Potter, is called the Line and Lineage Conquering Act." Rockclaw explained, "To be precise, Clause Two was invoked. There are a number of different clauses for a number of different situations, but the L.L.C.A. is intended for one unifying purpose: reward those who have successfully defeated wizards of immense power.

The L.L.C.A. has not been invoked in well over five hundred years now, but it is one of the laws tied into the magic of the country itself, so will exist as long as Magical Britain itself does."

"I-I see…" Harry said faintly, "So, by defeating the Dark Tosser three times, I get…_what_, exactly?"

"By defeating him three times in a row." Rockclaw corrected, chuckling to himself at the casual insult given to the most evil wizard of all time, "That is Clause Two, which is sadly not as generous as Clause One or Clause Three.

'_In that when any Witch, Wizard, Sorcerer or other Magical Human, with the exception of Squibs, does defeat a Lord of Britain three times in succession, that person she then receive the rights, responsibilities, titles and monies belonging to that Lord's family title for the rest of their natural life, returning the title to its rightful owner, along with the rights and responsibilities, upon their death. Any monies left over are considered forfeit to the one who won thrice and cannot be reclaimed by the original possessor. So Mote it be._'

That is Clause Two."

"So…wait…you _can't_ mean…!" Harry asked, pale as a ghost.

"Indeed. You defeated LORD Voldemort thrice, the self-proclaimed Heir of Salazar Slytherin, so you are now _Lord Slytherin _until the day you die." Rockclaw confirmed, sealing Harry's fate, "Congratulations, my Lord."

"When the Wizarding population hear of this…" Harry shuddered, "People are going to call me the next Dark Lord! Merlin, this is awful!"

"Now, now, My Lord, there is no reason to panic." Rockclaw appeased Harry, "An automatic _Fidelius_ Charm is cast upon activation, with the Magical Guardian (if applicable) and Goblin Account Manager being the Secret Keepers. Until and unless either I or Albus Dumbledore choose to divulge it, no-one else will know about you Lordship."

Harry sagged slightly in his seat in relief and took another sip of pumpkin juice before speaking up again.

"I've never heard of the _Fidelius_ Charm before. And if Professor Dumbledore knows, why didn't he tell me, rather than you? No offence intended."

"None taken." Rockclaw replied, "As to the charm, it conceals a secret within a person. No one can learn the secret unless the one who conceals it, the Secret Keeper, chooses to reveal it willingly. As to Headmaster Dumbledore, I decided that it would be in your interest if you spoke with me first, so I put a _Fidelius_ on the fact that he was a Secret Keeper."

"Bloody hell." Harry muttered. This was giving him a headache. "So, to return to the matter at hand, what does becoming…Lord Slytherin…mean for me?"

"Sadly, not very much." Rockclaw shrugged and pulled a portfolio from his black bag and flicked through it, "Salazar Slytherin lived and died long before the Founding of Gringotts in 1474, and therefore you have no monies to receive from Gringotts. You are allowed to become a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors upon your graduation from school, taking the Honorary Slytherin Founder's Seat. There are no responsibilities that go along with the title, nor are there any rights aside from the seat on the Board of Governors. All in all, it is merely a title."

"That…is actually quite a bit of relief." Harry said, "The whole 'Heir of Slytherin' thing this year was very stressful on me."

"I'm afraid that the news isn't over, Mr Potter." Rockclaw said, "You see, unknown to you, you are also Heir Apparent to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, as well as the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell, from which was created the House of Potter. When you were bestowed with the Lordship of Slytherin, the Bloodline Legacy Continuation Act was invoked on you."

Feeling a pit of dread in his stomach, Harry asked, "And that is what exactly?"

Rockclaw sighed. "As you are muggle-raised, there is every chance that you will find what I am about to tell you distasteful and wrong. I would ask that you allow me to finish speaking before you say anything. Alright?"

Harry nodded, his wariness suddenly sharply increasing.

"Very well. The B.L.C.A. or 'Blica', as it is nicknamed, is a law that was passed as more and more Pureblood Wizarding families died out, or as in the case of House Prewett as a result of Voldemort's War, extinct in the male line." Rockclaw started, "As most Pureblood families are interrelated to some degree or other, it was and is quite possible for a single person to become Family Heads of different bloodline simultaneously, this law states that any wizard who is in line to become head of three or more Houses are to marry one witch for every bloodline that he is due to inherit."

Harry gaped at Rockclaw in shock as the Goblin continued to speak.

"Now, as the Wizarding World has borrowed from a fair few pieces of Muggle legislation, it is technically illegal to marry more than one person at the same time. The sole exception is, of course, a person under the aegis of this law."

Rockclaw regarded the young man sitting as if petrified on his seat. The look he wore on his face was a mix between horror, bewilderment, incredulity and disbelief. Quite understandable, considering the boy is Muggle-raised, Rockclaw considered.

"Is…is there no way to get out of it?" Harry asked at last, "This is…I just…"

He seemed to be driven to near incomprehensibility by his shock, making Rockclaw chuckle.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. The law is ancient, going back to shortly after the founding of Hogwarts, to the time of the wizard Merlin or Myrddin if you prefer the Welsh version. It was _his_ spells and enchantments, _his_ magic that bound this law to the Sovereignty Magic of Magical Britain." Rockclaw informed Harry soberly, "The only way that you could escape it is to destroy the Sovereignty Magic itself, which is…_inadvisable_ in the extreme."

Harry slumped down in his chair, defeated by the Goblin's words, his mind racing at the ramifications for him that the two laws combined entailed.

"Now, there are a number of deadlines and safeguards on the law to ensure your compliance." Rockclaw continued once Harry had recovered himself somewhat, "The deadlines are thus: First, you must at least be engaged to marry three witches by your seventeenth birthday. Second, by the time you reach your twenty-first birthday, you must be married to all three.

Should you not meet the first deadline, magic will inform the Wizengamot, who will _assign_ you witches as your wives. As most of the Wizengamot are of the old, Pureblood families, it is doubtless that some of them are former Voldemort supporters, meaning you will have to be on guard day and night for fear of assassinations, mind control and manipulations."

"So, you're basically telling me that either I choose my wives myself or I'll be marrying a nest of snakes?" Harry asked, reasonably certain that he was correct.

"Almost certainly, Mr Potter." Rockclaw replied, "Most of the, shall we say, _questionable_, members of the Wizengamot are former members of Slytherin House. Unfortunately, the second Law is not subjected to the _Fidelius_ Charm, so the Ministry no-doubt already knows about it as well."

"Hang on!" Harry said in alarm, "If the Charm is working properly, then why did the second Law kick in?"

"The magic interwoven into the laws by Merlin is one of the finest examples of Wizarding spellcasting in existence, Mr Potter." Rockclaw informed him, "Any Charm has a weakness and Merlin anticipated the _Fidelius_ Charm when he cast his spells. It is said that somewhere in Britain is Merlin's Keystone, his direct link into Britain's Sovereignty Magic. It supposedly allows the user to alter the very fabric of the spells governing the Sovereignty Magic. Merlin made all the ancient laws immune to a _Fidelius_ Charm cast by pure magic or in other words, by themselves. A very tricky bit of spellwork beyond any living witch or wizard today."

Harry took this in as par for the course. "So…what do you suggest I do then?" he asked, "I can't imagine any girl willing to share a single guy with two other girls!"

'_Ah, to be young again._' Rockclaw thought wistfully. He had a mate he had taken back in his younger days and he had never been happier.

"Well now, that just depends on the person, Mr Potter." the Goblin said expansively, "Unfortunately, there are the different Family rules to do with marriage to consider as well."

"_Now_ what?" Harry groaned.

"Each House has…rules that dictate who you may or may not marry." Rockclaw explained, "I am fairly certain that you can guess a condition of marrying into Slytherin's House, can you not?"

"She has to be a Pureblood." Harry recited dully.

"Just so." Rockclaw said, "Other than that, the only consideration is that she be a virgin until her wedding night."

Harry flushed red at the bluntness of the Goblin's reference, to which Rockclaw paid no mind and flicked through the portfolio in his hands.

"Moving on, the Peverell Family has surprisingly few conditions as well, only specifying that the witch in question be magically powerful, that she not have 'unsightly blemishes upon her countenance' -that's bad spots or boils on her face to me and you- as well as that her family being at least an Ancient House, so Pureblood again, I'm afraid."

"Of course." Harry sighed, "Come on; hit me with the final blow. What conditions do the Potter Family have?"

"Just the one: that you love her." Rockclaw gave a toothy Goblin smile at Harry's surprise, "The Potter Family was always one of the more liberal and forward thinking families, similar to the Ancient House of Weasley."

"Can I ask about these…Houses you keep speak of?" Harry asked, "I have no idea who is in what position."

"Ah, well, that is rather easy." Rockclaw said with a smile, "At the bottom, you have regular pureblood families that have either been cast out of their families and disinherited or have left them for philosophical differences, muggleborn families and squibs.

The next step up are the Noble Houses, who are relatively new, seldom more than a centaury old, but have wealth to distinguish them from their contemporaries.

Then there are the Ancient Families, such as the Weasley Family, who actually used to be Ancient and Noble, but suffered a great deal of fiscal hardship in the past two centuries, so lost their status as 'Noble'. Nevertheless, the length of time a family has existed counts for much, so the Weasley's remain an ennobled family.

The Noble and Ancient Families are the next step in the ladder. They are families who have both been around for a considerable length of time and have considerable surfeit of wealth. The Malfoy Family would dearly love to be given this status but alas, they are still considered foreigners despite the fact they have been in Britain since 1066."

"Since William the Conqueror?" Harry asked in amazement, "They've been here for just under _nine hundred and thirty years _and they aren't considered Noble and Ancient?"

"Mr Potter, the headmaster before Dumbledore lived to be three hundred and twelve." Rockclaw informed him, "Wizards live for longer than Muggles, so they tend to take the long view. In another five centuries or so, they might be considered for Noble and Ancient status. For the moment, they are merely Noble.

Above the Ancient and Noble Families, politics tends to make the waters somewhat murky in determining who are the next step up, but we in Gringotts tend to agree that the Most Noble and Ancient Families are next, mainly because, again, money is far easier to accumulate -for wizards that is- than time.

Next, the Noble and Most Ancient Families hold their heads high as the second most powerful and influential of the Purebloods in Britain, especially the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Finally, at the apex of the system, are the Most Noble and Most Ancient Houses, of which there are currently only one with a possibility of being resurrected. All others died out through war or inbreeding many, many years ago."

Head reeling from the amount of information he had had to absorb, Harry made a mental note to ask Professor Dumbledore for a book about all this.

"It is very important that you plan your marriages carefully, Mister Potter." Rockclaw told him pointedly.

"…Because they have to be suitable for the position?" Harry hazarded a guess.

"No, although that is true." his Account Manager allowed, "The true reason is because, barring the Slytherin line, your Families all hold seats on the Wizengamot, which acts as both the governing Legislature of the Ministry of Magic and the Highest Judicial Court in Wizarding Britain.

Noble Houses and Ancient Houses, if they sit on the Wizengamot, get one vote each.

Ancient and Noble Houses get two votes each.

Most Noble and Ancient Houses get three votes each.

Noble and Most Ancient Houses get four votes each.

Finally, Most Noble and Most Ancient Houses get _five_ votes each."

Harry did some quick maths and didn't like what he got.

"So you mean I get _eight votes _when I assume my seat?" He asked in astonishment.

"No, no, no; you get _fifteen_." Rockclaw corrected, "Various families have died out and, if they have a seat on the Wizengamot, must designate to whom their voting power goes. Your grandfather, Charlus Potter, was a well respected member of the Wizengamot, and several families who died out during the war left their voting power to him before his own…death…at the hands of Voldemort's Death Eaters."

"His what?" Harry asked in bewilderment.

"The name the followers of Voldemort took: Death Eaters. Their Mark was a skull with a snake emerging from the mouth." Rockclaw explained.

Harry had a flash of the Basilisk emerging from the statue of Salazar Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Creepy." he muttered with a shiver.

"That, I believe, was the general idea." Rockclaw pointed out dryly, "So, do you now understand why I insisted on speaking to you first? That many votes in one person's hands could make or break any piece of legislation in the Wizengamot. Many will seek to use and manipulate you for their own ends and I would see them fail."

"Why?" Harry asked curiously, "From everything I have heard, the Goblin Nation and wizards…cordially _despise_ one another?"

"Very true, Mister Potter," Rockclaw acknowledged with a dry chuckle, "But I...I was a good friend of your Grandfather's. He was one of the few wizards who earned the right to be called a Goblin Friend, and while your own father was not like Charlus at all, in just this short meeting, I have seen quite a bit of him in you."

"Thank you." Harry was astonished that someone would do him a favour because they had been friends with his grandfather. Then again, he still wasn't used to people treating him like he wasn't a complete and total waste of space either.

"Well then, Mr Potter, that seems to be the sum of all of the business I have for you today." Rockclaw said, returning to a professional manner again, "Is there any business that you would like to bring to me?"

"Er…" Harry thought for a moment, and then remembered something his Uncle Vernon had said to his wife Petunia after watching a BBC news story about a corrupt official in a bank.

'_Bloody Man thinks he can pull a fast one on me, eh? Not likely! I've kept records of all my finances, incoming and outgoing since I got my first job. No snotty nancy-boy in a pinstripe suit is going to cheat _me_ out of my money! No sir!_'

'_Me either, Uncle. Me either._' Harry thought with a small grin.

"Master Goblin, I would like an inventory performed on all Vaults belonging to Houses Potter and Peverell, so I can accurately use my finances once I come of age." Harry said formally, "I would also like a list of assets owned by either House, both properties and investments, so I can determine what to get liquidate and what to further invest in."

Rockclaw made a couple of notes on a pad he had pulled out of his bag. "Very well, we can have them owled to you tomorrow. Anything else?"

"I would like to talk to Professor Dumbledore about this whole situation, so if you could remove the _Fidelius_ Charm that prevents him from knowing he is a secret keeper, I would greatly appreciate it."

Rockclaw nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a thin stick.

"If a _Fidelius_ is only needed temporarily, a special Goblin version of the charm can be used, binding the charm's existence to an object like this, which is enchanted to only be nigh indestructible and can only be destroyed by a certain action." he explained to Harry, "In this case…"

He grasped both ends of the stick and snapped it in half, releasing a flash of gold light.

"Your headmaster is now fully aware of the secret. Is that everything, Mr Potter?" Rockclaw asked politely.

"No, thank you, Account Manager Rockclaw. That is all of the business I have to bring to you today." Harry replied formally.

"Very good…oh yes, before I forget…" Rockclaw dipped into the black bag yet again. Harry suspected that the interior was magically enlarged to fit a portfolio that was longer than the bag was deep.

"Ah, here they are." the Goblin withdrew a pair of ring boxes from the bag and passed them to Harry. One had an unusual triangular sign on the box that resembled an eye; the other had a gold lion rampant on a red field with a sword clutched in one paw.

"Those are the Heir's rings for both House Potter and House Peverell. You are permitted to wear them from your thirteenth birthday onwards." Rockclaw explained, "Please do not try to put them on before hand, as there are spells on the rings to detect the age of the person trying to wear them and will not permit someone under thirteen to wear them."

"Understood." Harry nodded as he pocketed the boxes, "I'm afraid I should get back to Hogwarts, as I think Professor Dumbledore will be eager to have a conversation with me about what we have discussed."

"I can imagine." Rockclaw said dryly, "In which case, I bid you good day Mister Potter. May your gold overflow."

"May you be successful in your own endeavours, Account Manager Rockclaw." Harry replied solemnly and he turned to look at the mantelpiece to look for the Floo Powder.

"The jar on the small table next to the fireplace contains the Floo Powder, Mister Potter." Rockclaw called over his shoulder with a chuckle as he walked out the door.

Harry flushed in embarrassment and reached in to the jar for the familiar green powder. Obviously, the Goblins wouldn't put the powder where they couldn't reach for it physically!

He tossed the powder into the flames, turning them green, and stepped forward shouting, "Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office!"

He fell into the network, thinking how much he hated this method of travel.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Next Chapter: Friends, Lords and Foes**

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I am not J. K Rowling; therefore, I do not own Harry Potter.**

"Harry" -Speech

'_Ginny_' -Thoughts

/Bill\ -Foreign/Non-human Language

**Chapter 2: Friends, Lords and Foes**

When Harry emerged from the Floo, he only fell to his knees this time, which he counted as a slight improvement over his rather embarrassing entrance to Gringotts.

"Ah, Harry my boy." a rather concerned looking Albus Dumbledore said as he stood from his desk, "Dare I ask if your meeting with Rockclaw has been…enlightening?"

"Yes sir." Harry replied as he stood and muttered, "_Scourgify_" as he pointed his wand at his robes, getting rid of most of the soot he had accumulated from his two Floo trips.

"I see…Sherbet Lemon?" Dumbledore offered him a bowl full of the sour boiled sweets. Harry politely refused and took a seat when the headmaster gestured him to it and sat back down on his own seat.

"Now then, I have all of a sudden recalled that I am a Secret Keeper for you as a result of the Line and Lineage Conquering Act." Dumbledore said, "Might I enquire if Rockclaw was responsible for my sudden forgetfulness?"

"Yes sir. He cast a temporary _Fidelius_ Charm on the knowledge that you are a Secret Keeper." Harry replied, "He broke it, at my request, just before I left Gringotts."

"Ah, I see…" Dumbledore mused, "Yes, that does sound like Rockclaw. I presume he informed you of everything to do with the Line and Lineage Conquering Act, as well as the Bloodline Legacy Continuation Act?"

"Unfortunately, _yes_." Harry moaned, "How do these things keep _happening_ to me?"

"Alas, it happens when one ventures into battle against the unknown." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily, "Why, one time in my younger days, I had just fought off a coven of Hags in a forest in northern Germany and was suddenly beset by a swarm of Doxys, swiftly followed by a herd of Pogrebins. Dear me, I had quite the time getting rid of them. At the end of it, I was awarded accolades from the locals for cleaning the forest of the Hags and Pogrebins and was given the honorary title of Defender of the Forest, which involved me getting married to the mayor's daughter. It took quite a bit of wrangling for me to get out of it, which is saying something."

"Lucky you." Harry groused, "**I** can't do that. The Sovereignty magic won't let me; especially considering Merlin himself cast the spells! I'm stuck."

"That is an accurate and to the point summation of your situation." Dumbledore admitted, "Did Rockclaw mention the, ah, _consequences_ of not selecting your own wives?"

"He said that the _Fidelius_ would be broken and the Wizengamot would be put in charge of selecting my wives." Harry said with a scowl, "Likely meaning I'd end up married to three daughters of Voldemort's supporters."

"Quite." Dumbledore nodded, "That would be, shall we say, sub-optimal for you in the long run, so let us bend our minds to ensuring that circumstance doesn't come to pass, shall we?"

"No arguments from me sir." Harry replied, relieved that Dumbledore was helping him.

"Very well then. First, might I ask what the marriage rules for the Slytherin, Potter and Peverell families are?" Dumbledore asked.

"The Potter family rules are the simplest. They state I have to love whomever I marry, no other restrictions." Harry recited, "The Slytherin rules merely state that whomever I marry has to be a Pureblood and must remain a virgin until her wedding night. The Peverell rules say that I can't marry someone who has 'unsightly blemishes' on her face, that she be magically powerful and be at least of an Ancient House."

"Hmm…so, two Purebloods and another lady of any heritage." Dumbledore mused.

"Yeah, but how in Merlin's name am I going to convince _three_ girls to marry me at the same time?" Harry asked languidly, "They'd slap me and call me a womaniser or something."

"Pureblood families teach their children about the ancient laws the year before they attend Hogwarts." Dumbledore said calmly, "As do the scions of any Pureblood families who are married to Muggles or Muggleborns. They would, if not be happy about it, at least know that your choice in this matter is limited to _when_ it happens, not _if_ it happens."

"So Muggleborns are going to be out." Harry sighed.

"Not necessarily. If you show them the law and the letter you will doubtless recieve informing you of the law's activation on your behalf, that ought to defuse them, at least somewhat. Especially one as smart as Miss Granger." Dumbledore said with a small smile.

"Hermione? Oh damn, I forgot about telling her!" Harry rapidly paled as he realised his friend would _not_ be happy about this at all.

"Miss Granger is indeed somewhat…_strident_…about making her opinion clear on any subject." Dumbledore conceded, "If you wish, I can provide a book on the subject for yours and her perusal?"

"That would be a big help sir." Harry said feelingly. Hermione was very prone to fall into logic, despite being in a magical world, so Harry knew that a sound and airtight argument would stop her from going off half-cocked to try and find a way out of it for him.

While he would greatly appreciate being able to get out of it, everything he had been told about the ancient laws made it clear to him that getting out of this was the next best thing to impossible, short of destroying the Sovereignty Magic that bound Magical Britain and who knows what doing _that_ could do.

Dumbledore stood up, walked over to a blank stretch of wall, and said, "Cognitionem Vincit Omnis."

The wall sank into the ground, revealing a hidden bookcase. The headmaster examined the shelves for a moment before pulling three books from the assortment and stepping back, allowing the wall to slide shut again.

"This book contains a copy of every law passed by the Wizard's Council and Ministry of Magic." Dumbledore informed Harry as he passed the first volume over to him. It had a periwinkle blue cover with the title, '_The Laws and Ordinances of the Realm of Magical Britain_'. It had no author's name.

"Ah, that is because it is a self-updating volume." Dumbledore told Harry when this was brought up, "It is linked to the master volume in the Chamber of the Wizengamot and adds or removes laws as is appropriate."

"Shame textbooks aren't like that." Harry said, "It would save the Weasley's a fortune every year."

"True." Dumbledore said with a smile, "Now, these next two books are for your personal perusal. This one has the history of Magical Lords in Britain and this one outlines the duties and responsibilities of a Head of House."

The second volume Harry was passed had a rich red cover, embossed with the legend, '_Lords and Ladies: the Definitive Edition_' by Engelbert Highcastle, while the third was an eye-piercing shade of magenta entitled, '_Who Rules the Roost? The Duties of a Head of House_' by Martina Steepchapel.

"I would take the time to read all of these before you introduce them to Miss Granger, otherwise you might have some trouble reading them." Dumbledore said gravely, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

Harry snorted in amusement as he nodded in agreement. Once Hermione got her hands on a book, trying to pry it away from her was an exercise in futility, similar to trying to get Gilderoy Lockhart to actually do something useful.

"Tell me Harry, do you know the other female members in your year well?" Dumbledore asked curiously once Harry had shrunk the books and pocketed them.

"Not really." Harry replied uncomfortably, "Aside from Hermione, I don't really speak to any of them unless we're working together in class, especially the ones from other Houses."

"A common situation." Dumbledore said with a nod, "I would advise that next year, you attempt to socialise with them more, even those from other Houses."

"No offence sir, but there aren't exactly many social events to do that kind of thing at Hogwarts." Harry said, "Besides, the Slytherins wouldn't give me the time of day."

"Young Mr Malfoy seems to have jaded your perceptions towards the House of the Cunning." Dumbledore observed, "Several members of Slytherin are actually from the Neutral aligned section of the Wizengamot however, Miss Daphne Greengrass in your Year for example. They stayed out of the last War, refusing to side with either Voldemort or myself. I encourage you not to let your previous bad experiences with Mr Malfoy cloud your judgement."

"I'll try sir." Harry said reluctantly, but knew that Dumbledore had a point.

"As to socialisation, I would suggest that when you pair up for learning spells or potions, you choose to work with someone other than Mr Weasley or Miss Granger." Dumbledore continued, "Indeed, next year you will be a Third Year and thus able to go to Hogsmeade Village, which is an opportunity for you, provided your guardians sign the consent form."

Harry privately thought that getting the Dursley's to sign the form would be very, _very_ difficult, but decided not to inform the Headmaster of the possible slight hiccup in the plan.

"Speaking of which, Molly Weasley wrote to tell me of your daring escape from the Dursley's last year." Dumbledore said with a frown, "Would you mind telling me what the entirety of the circumstances were running up to the time you left the Dursley's care?"

"Do you remember Dobby, the Malfoy's House-Elf?" Harry asked. When Dumbledore nodded, Harry continued, "He knew, somehow, what Lucius Malfoy had planned and tried to keep me away from Hogwarts in order to keep me safe. First, he tried to make me think my friends had abandoned me by intercepting my mail and then having a talk with me."

Harry frowned as he remembered the _outcome_ of that talk.

"I figured out he had intercepted my mail and refused to not return to Hogwarts. Dobby then decided to make sure I couldn't go back by using a Hover Charm in front of some guests to float a pudding." Harry continued, "This got me a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office, letting the Dursley's know I couldn't use magic on them.

Uncle Vernon locked me in my room, put bars on my window and installed a cat flap so I could be fed. I was let out twice a day to use to toilet and shower, but was otherwise confined to my room. Three days later, Ron, Fred and George showed up and rescued me."

The twinkle had gone out in Dumbledore's eyes as he listened to Harry's tale. His face grave, he asked Harry, "Were you fed adequately?"

"I had a bowl of porridge for breakfast and a bowl of cold soup for dinner, all three days." Harry replied, somewhat grimly, "Hedwig had some owl treats, but I gave her some vegetables from the soup to keep her fed properly."

"I believe I shall have to go and have a _word_ with your Aunt and Uncle about the manner in which you are treated, as well as visit the Improper Use of Magic Office." Dumbledore sighed, "Do you recall who sent you the letter, Harry?"

"It was…Mafalda Hopkirk I think." Harry tried to remember the letter from last year.

"Ah yes. A former Ravenclaw Prefect." Dumbledore mused, "Now she's Commander-in-Chief of the Improper Use of Magic Office. How time flies. Might I have a memory from you to prove your innocence?"

"A…memory?" Harry said uncertainly, "Ummm…how…?"

"Ah, pardon me. You will not have come across such a thing, I'm sure." Dumbledore apologised, "Allow me to demonstrate."

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore summoned a shallow stone basin from a cupboard nearby. Harry looked at it in awe. The rim was encrusted with odd runic symbols that glowed with power and it was filled with a silvery liquid that glowed a luminescent silver colour.

"What _is_ this sir?" Harry asked softly.

"This, Harry, is my Pensieve." Dumbledore told him with a smile, "This will not be the case for one as young as you, but occasionally, I feel as if I have too many thoughts and memories crammed in my mind. When that happens, I used the Pensieve. It allows me to view my memories either from the perspective of an observer from without or from within the memory as is needed. Links and patterns become much easier to chain together when viewed as such, when you can take the time and leisure to view them as you please."

"That silvery stuff's your _thoughts_?" Harry said in astonishment.

"Indeed." Dumbledore said, "Now, to draw out your thoughts, you press the tip of your wand to your temple and concentrate on the memory you wish to extract, then you gently pull the wand away and the memory emerges as a silvery strand affixed to the end of your wand. Allow me to demonstrate."

Dumbledore paced the wand at his temple for a moment, and then drew it back, a thin strand of pure memory emerging, which Dumbledore placed in the Pensieve. He then raised it slightly and swirled it around before putting it down and prodding at it with his wand.

Immediately, the silver liquid surged up and took the form of a beaming Gilderoy Lockhart, which began to rotate atop the Pensieve as the memory spoke in Lockhart's familiar, expansive, narcissistic voice.

"_Hi! As I am sure you know, I am Gilderoy Lockhart, holder of the Order of Merlin Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and Five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award!_" memory-Lockhart said, flashing his teeth in his oft-used charming smile, adding a roguish wink at the end before continuing to speak.

"_I heard through the grapevine that you're having a spot of bother filling the DADA position this year. I thought I would help you out and offer my services. I need no resume; merely look through my published works and you can see that I am the best man for the job. What do you say then, Headmaster?_"

"That is _quite_ enough out of _you_, Gilderoy." Dumbledore muttered and prodded the silvery memories again, prompting the figure to seep back into the tray.

"Was that his interview?" Harry asked curiously.

"An abridged version." Dumbledore replied, "He spoke at great length about his 'heroics' and it took quite some time to bring him to the point of actually asking for the job. Care to try and extract a memory?"

"Okay." Harry said and lightly placed the wand tip on his temple and focussed on when Dobby had visited him, from when Harry had walked into his bedroom to just after the Mason's had left. Feeling a warm sensation, Harry slowly drew back his wand, a silver strand attached to the end. He quickly placed it in the Pensive.

"Well done Harry. Now let's go in." Dumbledore said with a smile, "Merely touch the surface of the memories with your finger and you will be drawn into the most recent memory added."

Nervously, Harry reached out and touched the surface with his finger. He felt like he was being tugged into the silvery liquid. He fell through blackness before landing lightly in what he recognised as his own room at Number 4 Privet Drive, joined a few moments later by Professor Dumbledore.

"This kind of reminds me of Tom Riddle's diary, when he showed me when he framed Hagrid." Harry scowled at the thought of his first friend in the Wizarding World being framed by the person who would one day become Lord Voldemort.

"So Tom was able to recreate the effects of a Pensieve at the age of…sixteen or seventeen. Remarkable." Dumbledore said with a shake of his head.

The two of them observed the interactions of the past-Harry and memory-Dobby, ending just after the visiting Mason family was ushered out the door. Dumbledore drew Harry out of the Pensieve and the two returned to their original bodies.

"Well, that ought to make my visit with the Improper Use of Magic Office a swift one. An open and shut case if I've ever seen one, Harry." Dumbledore said as he drew Harry's memory out of the Pensieve and placed it into a conjured crystal vial.

"Sir…" Harry spoke uncertainly, "Would it be possible to try and get Hagrid's criminal record overturned? If I gave a memory of Riddle's memory talking about what he had done, that is?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "I must confess the thought of having Hagrid proven innocent of all wrongdoing appeals greatly to me. Such a case would require not only the memory, but for you to testify in person, my boy. Would you be willing?"

"But I'm underage." Harry protested.

"In the Wizarding World, anyone who is the Heir to a Noble House or more, are thirteen and has claimed their Heirs Ring is allowed to testify as an adult, including questioning under the truth potion Veritaserum, which is all but infallible…as long as the person being given it is sane." Dumbledore replied.

"I'll do it then." Harry nodded firmly.

"Very good then. I'll arrange things so that you get a summons from the Wizengamot a few days after your birthday." Dumbledore looked pleased, "Cornelius isn't going to like it, but I daresay that very little makes him happy that is out of the ordinary."

"Sounds like my uncle." Harry remarked.

"Cornelius is considerably less…_fanatical_…than your uncle." Dumbledore said, "He merely prefers thing to remain as they are. Safe, stable, secure and with himself as Minister. Now then, I believe we have discussed enough of your issue with the ancient laws for one day. I believe that you should read those books and then come back to me with any questions you might have."

"Alright sir." Harry was about to turn and leave when a bright flash of fire bloomed over the golden perch next to Dumbledore's desk and a red-gold bird the size of a swan appeared.

"Ah Fawkes. I was wondering where you had gotten off to." Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. The Phoenix sang a couple of notes that filled Harry with warmth, just as they had in the Chamber of Secrets.

Fawkes fluttered over to Harry and landed on his shoulder. Harry hesitantly stroked Fawkes' feathers, which were very soft and warm to the touch.

"Fawkes seems rather fond of you Harry." Dumbledore chuckled, "That speaks a good deal about your character, as phoenixes tend to avoid all but those who are good and true."

Harry flushed at the implied compliment and focussed on stroking Fawkes' feathers, making Dumbledore chuckle at the boy's humility.

After petting Fawkes for a while, Harry excused himself and headed off to Gryffindor Tower, to do some serious reading and thinking.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**The Next Day - Morning**

_Second Year Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower_

Harry lay back on his bed with the curtains closed. He was busy reading the second book Professor Dumbledore had given him, as he had flipped through the law book quickly the night before and examined the ancient laws section.

There were about a hundred ancient laws bound to the Sovereignty Magic of Britain, put in place by various members of the Wizard's Council upon their founding, the most recent laws added being that of Merlin the Magnificent, the two laws that concerned Harry.

Regrettably, the laws were exactly as Rockclaw and Dumbledore explained to him. There was absolutely no wiggle room in them at all, no ability to avoid them, as they were written to prevent the noble families of Wizarding Britain from dying out.

Frustrated, Harry had turned to the section on blood purity to see if he couldn't use the prejudiced was of the Purebloods to get out of it, only to find that Merlin had been very crafty and sneaky (unsurprising considering he had been in Slytherin) when writing his laws.

Under the Merlin Amendment, any person who was at least one-sixteenth blood related to a Noble Family was eligible to become Head of House. Not very many people knew of it, but it was there. Harry had throw the book to one side in disgust and gone to sleep.

Now he was reading the book regarding Lords of Britain, which was…illuminating, to say the least, especially the current section he was reading.

"…_In Magical Britain, there are two types of Lords: Lords of Blood and Lords of Magic._

_Lords of Blood (not to be confused with vampires) are the Heads of House of any Noble Family. The title permits any Head of House to sit on the Wizengamot and almost guarantees the status of Department Head within the Ministry of Magic should they be employed by the Ministry. Being a Head of House also grants a slight increase to the wizard's magic._

_Being a Lord of Magic, however, is of a completely different nature. It is not by blood, money or land that one is deemed a Lord of Magic, but by the Sovereignty Magic of Britain itself. Long before the founding of the Wizards Council, long before the Founding of Hogwarts, yet after the Romans abandoned Britain in the Year 410, the country of Magical Britain was divided into small magical fiefdoms ruled by a Lord of Magic, who was literally one with the land, able to sense all who dwelled within their lands, be they muggles, wizardkind or any non-human race._

_The power that the Lords of Magic possessed in those days was a frightening thing, magic so strong that they were well able to defeat any number of lesser wizards, even when the wizards were arrayed as a unified fighting force against a Lord of Magic._

_As time went on, the various fiefdoms were conquered by other Lords of Magic and added to the conqueror's own lands. This time is known for frequent magical clashes of epic proportions, reshaping the land as Lord fought Lord, only one walking away from each clash, bloodied but triumphant._

_The situation came to the point that only two Lords remained. One holding all of Britain above Hadrian's Wall, or present-day Scotland, the other ruling over all land south of the mighty edifice, namely England and Wales, although their names remain shrouded in mystery to this day. For a couple of decades, the two ruled their lands in harmony, each choosing not to engage the other for fear that the resulting clash would shatter the land once and for all._

_Then, for an unknown reason, the two met in the wizarding village of Turup's Grove and began the duel to determine who would be the sole ruler of the land. From all accounts, the duel was long and drawn out, lasting for three days and nights and utterly destroying the village in which the clash began._

_When the dust settled, the Northern Lord of Magic had fallen, leaving the Southern Lord as the victor, although he was heavily wounded and had lost an arm._

_The years carried on and the Lord carried out research on the magic that bound him to the entirety of Britain. He discovered that, when he died, all of that magic would die with him, no other Lords having risen taking with it a great deal of the magical potential of the land, which would cause the potential for life to wither until the magic regenerated itself, meaning the crops that fed the people would die, as would a fair few animals, wild and domesticated, mundane and magical._

_The Lord called together some of the brightest minds of the time and they worked tirelessly to create a solution to prevent this. The Lord despised Dark Magic, so any immortality solution was dismissed, as most attempts at such a violation of the natural order are classed as Dark._

_Eventually, the conclave created a solution. Using a powerful ritual, they would anchor the Lord's magic, and the magical connection inherently a part of it, to the very land of Britain itself at the moment of his death, ensuring that as long as the land survived, so too would the connection._

_Rather than wait for his death to occur naturally, the Lord bade the conclave to prepare the ritual at once, for he knew that every day that he waited was one more day that another Lord could rise up and challenge him, and there was no telling if a new Lord would even care about the future of Britain._

_It is unknown, even to this day, what the ritual was or how it was performed, but the facts remain: the Lord died, the land was preserved and magic was eternally bound to the country of Britain._

_In honour of his sacrifice, the Lord was given the title of 'Sovereign' by the Conclave, soon to become the first incarnation of the Wizard's Council, and the magic that binds and preserves the land was named after his title, becoming known as the Sovereignty Magic of Magical Britain._

_After this time, there were relatively few Lords of Magic and they were significantly weaker than their predecessors as they were not Lords of something as solid as land anymore, but of obscure concepts and causes that required a great deal of personal belief as well as innate magical power, although the exact perquisites to becoming a Lord of Magic are, to this day, still unknown._

_At the time this book was written and published, there are currently two Lords of Magic in existence. The first is known and feared as the Dark Lord He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Lord of Magical Darkness._

_The second is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Lord of Magical Light. Both of these wizards are known for their extreme prowess in the magical arts and are widely regarded to be the strongest wizards since Merlin Himself._"

"Bloody hell." Harry muttered as he closed the book. This explained why destroying the Sovereignty Magic was such a _bad_ idea, if it was even possible, as no one knew how it had been created in the first place.

"Harry!" a female voice called from the door of his dormitory. Harry poked his head out of his curtains to see his female best friend, Hermione Granger, standing at the door, her hands on her hips and a determined look in her eyes.

"Hey 'Mione." Harry said as he climbed out of bed and put the book into his trunk, "What's up?"

"'What's up'? You only have ten minutes of breakfast left, that's what!" Hermione said with an eye roll, "Ronald sent me up to get you as he was too busy eating half of the contents of the kitchen to come himself. And what was that book?"

She seemed suspicious, which was quite natural as Harry rarely read anything but textbooks and the occasional foray into '_Quidditch Through The Ages_'.

"You do know Ron hates being called by his full name, 'Mione." Harry replied as he walked over to her, attempting to divert her from asking about the book.

She sniffed before answering, "Well if _he'd_ stop calling me 'Mione all the time, _I_ would stop addressing him as Ronald."

"I call you 'Mione as well." Harry pointed out as they walked down to the Common Room, "Should I stop?"

"EH?!" Hermione seemed taken aback, "No, I don't mind _you_ calling me that, it's just that Ron calling me that is…irritating. I don't want him to take me for granted, even to do with names."

Harry glanced at Hermione as they walked to the Great Hall and said, "'Mione, he doesn't take you for granted. You should have seen him when we saw you lying petrified in the Hospital Wing. He took it really hard."

She smiled at him at his words and asked, "And you?"

"I felt like I'd just been hit in the head with a Bludger." Harry replied instantly, shivering as he remembered Hermione's petrified form lying in the bed, unmoving and unresponsive, "I was numb, because I…kind of blamed myself for you getting attacked."

"Oh, _Harry_." Hermione sighed, exasperated with her friends guilt-complex, "I'm a Muggleborn. I was already on the list to be attacked. It was just bad luck it happened to me, out of all the other Muggleborns in Hogwarts."

"No, the person behind the attacks chose to stalk you until you were alone, or close to it, and then attack you to make sure I'd go after him." Harry corrected her.

Hermione looked startled again. Harry had only given her and Ron the highpoints of what had actually happened in the Chamber, but perhaps he should elaborate on that after breakfast.

"I'll tell you after I've eaten something." he promised and Hermione nodded. As they entered the Great Hall, the two friends noticed Draco Malfoy sulking at the Slytherin table, still angry that his father had been sacked as a School Governor.

"Looks like Draco's still sour." Harry muttered to Hermione with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"_Poor_ Draco." Hermione said with false sympathy, "My heart just _bleeds_ for him."

The two of them laughed at that, earning a glare from the Malfoy Scion as the walked to the Gryffindor table and sat next to Ron Weasley, who was in the middle of his who-knew-how-many helping of an all English Breakfast.

" 'ello, 'arry." Ron said, his mouth full of food.

"Ronald, either eat or talk! Don't do both!" Hermione scolded him on automatic.

"Oh give over, Hermione!" Ron moaned as he finished his mouthful, "What are you, my mum?"

"I daresay Mrs Weasley would do worse than scold you if she saw the manners you display at the table in Hogwarts." the bushy haired girl replied instantly.

As his two friends settled into one of their regular (and frequent) quarrels, Harry got down to the serious business of eating what he could before breakfast was over. As he moved bacon, sausages and some toast onto his plate, he began to think about how to tell his best friends about his…well, his marriage problem was the best way to put it, he supposed.

The main problem was, the law that activated the Bloodline Legacy Continuation Act, the Line and Lineage Conquering Act, was under the Fidelius Charm, thus he couldn't tell them about it, which was…_not_ good.

'_Professor Dumbledore is one of the Secret Keepers for that law. Maybe he can help me explain it to them?_' Harry though, unusually optimistic, '_At the very least, he can let them in on the secret._'

Cheered slightly by the though of having the help of the headmaster in telling his friends, Harry dug into his food.

**Later -Empty DADA Classroom**

"_You-Know-Who _was the one who possessed Ginny?!" Ron gaped in shock. For once, Hermione seemed to be on the same page as Ron, because she was white in shock, with her hazel eyes wide.

"Yup." Harry said not really looking at the pair of them, "Professor Dumbledore was quite impressed with how Riddle enchanted the diary at only sixteen."

"That makes _four_ times that he's tried to kill you now Harry!" Hermione said, her voice rising in volume and pitch as she spoke, making Harry glad that she had cast several Silencing and Notice-Me-Not Charms on the door at his request.

Harry waved a hand at her. "Hermione, the Dark Tosser's had it in for me since I was _one_." he said impatiently, "I beat him as a _baby_; that's an insult he _cannot_ let pass if he ever comes back. The point is that being around me is going to get _more_ dangerous. Look at this year; Ginny was targeted because she is my best friend's sister and Hermione was targeted because she's my _other_ best friend."

"Harry James Potter, don't you even _dare_ think you are going to try and push us away 'for our own good'!" Hermione yelled at him.

"Too right mate." Ron agreed with Hermione, "Harry, my entire family are considered Blood-Traitors by You-Know-Who's followers. She could have been chosen because of that!"

"And as I _told_ you _before_, I am a Muggleborn; friends with you or not, I am a target for V-v-v-voldemort." Hermione said angrily, only faltering on saying the name of Riddle's _nom de guerre_.

"I know." Harry said, sinking into a nearby chair with a sigh, "But you have to admit that if you aren't so close to me, you won't be targeted with as much…_zeal_ as if you stay close to me."

"That doesn't matter Harry." Hermione said softly. She leaned against the desk and put a hand on his shoulder, "Ron and I are _not_ abandoning you, regardless of what you say. Understand?"

"If you don't I can get Fred and George to prank the idea firmly into your head." Ron quipped as he grinned mischievously at Harry, who snorted and shook his head.

"Thanks, but I'd rather not wake up looking like Malfoy on a bad hair day." he said dryly, making Ron fake throwing up and Hermione wrinkle her nose.

"Mate, I so didn't need that image!" Ron said in disgust, "He looks bad enough on a good day; I do _not _want to see him on a bad day!"

"Agreed." said Hermione, looking rather green at the thought.

Harry laughed at the reactions of his two friends, but then became serious.

"Guys, there was a…consequence of sorts to what happened down in the chamber." he said, gaining their immediate attention, "Nothing life threatening or immediate, but…well it isn't something I'm happy about."

"What? What's wrong?" Hermione asked sharply.

"…I can't tell you all of it, because part of it is concealed behind a powerful Charm called a _Fidelius_." Harry replied slowly, "Until the Secret Keeper tells you two himself, I literally can't say anything about it."

"I've never heard of that Charm." Hermione furrowed her brow in thought, "What does it do? How does it work? What are its limits?"

"Blimey Hermione, let the man get a word in edgewise!" Ron interrupted her.

Harry smiled, as one of Hermione's strongest traits appeared: her thirst for knowledge. He briefly summed up what he knew of the Fidelius Charm, adding that he only knew the bare bones of what the Charm did.

"Talk about high security." Ron remarked, "So what're you going to do?"

"Ask Professor Dumbledore to let you two in on the secret. You _need_ to know about the part I _can't _tell you right now to _understand_ the part that I _can_ tell you, but won't right now." Harry replied frankly, "I _can_ say that the law in question is an ancient law bound to the Sovereignty Magic of Britain by Merlin himself. _Nothing_ can be done to get me out of complying with it short of me dying."

Ron and Hermione exchanged alarmed looks. By the sounds of it, Harry had already _tried_ to get out of it…and failed.

Ron tried to remember anything he had been told about ancient laws. He vaguely recalled his father teaching him about them when he was ten, but he hadn't really paid them any attention. The Weasley's were Blood-Traitors after all, and proud of it. None of the laws were likely to affect them, so why bother learning them?

Right now, he felt like an idiot for daydreaming about riding the Comet 260 or the Nimbus 2000 while his father had tried to teach him the laws.

Hermione was listing all the books she knew that had the laws of Wizarding Britain in them, and frowning as she could only list a handful that mentioned specific laws, rather than a general law book.

Harry knew his friends well and could read their faces like the pages of a book. He gave them a small smile and said, "Even if you knew the law beforehand, the _Fidelius_ would prevent you from being able to speak about it to someone who isn't in on the secret."

They nodded at that, but Hermione had a stubborn look on her face that Harry and Ron recognised all too well: she was on a quest now, and nothing could stop her from researching the topic until all its secrets were laid bare before her.

"I have a book that Dumbledore gave me, an automatic-updating version of the laws of the Wizengamot." Harry told her, "But again, the _Fidelius _will hide the law from any who haven't been told by the Secret Keeper, so again, it would be better to wait until Professor Dumbledore tells you the secret."

Hermione didn't look happy about information being kept from her, but nodded in agreement.

"Now, I think we should go and visit Hagrid." Harry said, changing the subject to a more cheerful one, "It's been a while and I have some news for him."

Surprised, Ron and Hermione nodded and, after Hermione took down her charms, trooped after Harry down to Hagrid's Hut, where their half-giant friend was sitting outside his home with Fang, his pet boarhound, as he whittled a piece of wood with his overlarge penknife.

" 'ello, 'arry, Ron, 'ermione! Nice ta see ya!" Hagrid beamed at them, his black, beetle-like eyes twinkling at them over his large beard, " Nice of yeh ta drop in on me. Tea?"

"Sure." Harry nodded. As he and his two friends sat down Hagrid entered his small house and came out with a kettle and four mugs.

"How are you doing, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, noticing he still looked slightly worn and tired after his short stay in the Wizard's Prison, Azkaban.

"Be'er than I was when I left that damned prison." Hagrid said feelingly as he poured tea into the cups and passed them out, "Them Azkaban guards…I _never_ wanna hafta go near 'em again."

Ron nodded in agreement, but Harry and Hermione looked perplexed. They looked at each other for a moment before turning back to Hagrid.

"Who are the Azkaban guards anyway?" Harry asked, "The way everyone talks about them, they seem to be the bogey-men of the Wizarding World."

Hagrid snorted. "Migh' as well be." he said, "See, most'a the Azkaban guards ain't human. Literally. There are a few human Aurors around, but most of the guards are…Dementors."

The half-giant shivered almost as bad as he had when he had told Harry Voldemort's name when he had given the eleven-year-old him his Hogwarts letter.

"What're Dementors?" he asked.

"Evil blighters so they are." Hagrid said as he took a slurp of his tea, "They float a foot offa the ground, an' wear a pitch-black cloak. That ain't the worst a' them. They suck the happiness outta yeh, every happy an' pleasant thought yeh have, until yer left with nuthin' but yer worst memories an' experiences. Nuthin' but despair."

"And they threw you in with those…_those monsters_!?" Hermione half-shrieked in anger, "You were innocent! There was no possible _way_ you were Slytherin's Heir!"

"Ah knew that, _Perfesser Dumbledore _knew that an' you three knew that, but ol' Fudge didn't know or care. He jes' wanted someone ta blame so he didn't get accused a' incompetence by the parents." Hagrid told her sadly, a faint smile on his bearded face, "All that matters now is that ah'm out and ah'm not goin' back if ah can help it."

"Actually, I came to talk to you about that Hagrid." Harry said with a mischievous smile on his face.

"Uh-oh, ah know that look." Hagrid said in amusement, "Yer father looked almos' exactly like that when he was about ta do a big prank. He made Fred an' George look tame by comparison."

"Really?" Harry asked eagerly. He always liked to hear about his parents.

"Yeah, James was a right jokester, always plannin' somethin' or other." Hagrid said fondly, "I mind when he pranked Filch one time. Somehow dressed the ol' git like a ballerina, tutu, tights an' all."

Ron went green. "I _really_ didn't need to hear that!" he moaned.

"Too right." Harry agreed wholeheartedly, "So, moving away from the subject of Filch, I've asked Professor Dumbledore to clear your name Hagrid."

"Tha's a nice thought 'arry, but even though someone else did it this time, even Perfesser Dumbledore'd need proof ta get ridda the accusations fifty year ago." Hagrid said with another sad smile.

"Which he has." Harry said with a grin, "A witness who heard Tom Marvolo Riddle confess to having opened the Chamber of Secrets the last time."

"What?! Who?" Hagrid exclaimed with his eyes wide, accidentally breaking his cup in is astonishment.

"_Reparo_" Harry pulled his wand out and repaired the cup with a single flick before saying, "Me. The memory of Riddle came out of the diary to confront me and pretty much followed his older self's suit in taunting me: blah, blah, blah, 'your mother was a Mudblood' , blah, blah, blah, 'you stand no chance against me Potter', blah, blah, blah, '_I opened the Chamber and framed Hagrid._'"

Hagrid looked at Harry in shock. "He…he told yeah that…but…" the larger than life man struggled with his next objection, "Yer not of age, 'arry. Yer memory can't be used as evidence!"

"Right now, yes." Harry acknowledged, "When I turn thirteen though, I can put on my Heir's Ring, which gains me a few rights, responsibilities and statuses. Chief among them in this case is the fact that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has to treat any testimony given by me as one given by an adult. Unfortunately, they have to question me with the truth potion Veritaserum when they do that."

"Bloody hell!" Ron blurted, "That's the strongest truth potion in existence!"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded on automatic while she looked at Ron with an eyebrow up in surprise. "How do you know that?" she asked. There was no way Ron looked it up from the NEWT-level coursework as he hated to study, so how…?

"Dad told me about one time when he had to testify in a case after being given it." Ron explained. Arthur Weasley was the Department Head for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, so this was probably one of the cases when he'd been on a raid and had to testify about what happened and what he found.

"He said that he couldn't hold _anything_ back." Ron looked both fearful and disgusted by the fact, "Tasteless, scentless…a hundred percent effective and undetectable. That's why it's illegal for anyone to spike a drink with it. It earns you time in Azkaban if you're caught doing it."

"What matters here is that taking the stuff lets me testify _that Hagrid is innocent!_" Harry said with an eye roll.

"Yeh…yeh'd do that fer me?" Hagrid asked hoarsely.

"Of course!" Harry said, "You're my friend, Hagrid! Besides, Riddle has won every day that this stupid charge has hung over your head. I don't want him to win for any longer than is needed."

Hagrid, seemingly speechless with emotion, engulfed Harry in a vice-like hug that felt like it was snapping his ribs.

"Thank yeh, 'arry." He said once he let the last Potter go, "I dunno how I can thank yeh."

Harry, his ribs aching, nonetheless smiled at his first friend in the Wizarding World. "Just let me take you to Ollivanders once you're cleared so I can return the favour from before Hogwarts, alright?"

Once again, Harry was treated to the overenthusiastic hug of a half-giant, after which he had to go to the Hospital Wing in order to get a Pain-Relief Potion from Madame Pomfrey.

**Later that Day…**

"This is odd." Harry said abruptly. He, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the Library while the smartest witch of their year browsed the shelves for books on law, even conscripting the aid of Madame Pince to her cause.

"What is?" Ron asked. The redhead was reading '_Quidditch Through the Ages_' yet again while eyeing Hermione occasionally as if she were mad.

"I was supposed to get an statement from Gringotts today about my vaults." Harry replied, "Did none show up with post for me before Hermione came to get me?"

"Nope." Ron replied, "Just Hermione's copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and a letter from mum telling me to look after Ginny."

"Odd." Harry muttered, "Oh! How is Ginny anyway?"

"About what you'd expect." Ron said as he turned the page, "Quiet and a bit withdrawn. Not even Fred and George can get her to smile. Been like that since mum and dad went back to the Burrow."

"Should I have a word with her?" Harry offered, knowing full well what was causing the youngest Weasley's withdrawal from her family: guilt. She had been told by her father 'not to trust anything when you couldn't see where it kept its brain', but had ignored that advice when it came to Tom Riddle's diary and Harry -not to mention everyone who had been petrified- had almost paid the price for that.

"Nah, it'll be fine." Ron said dismissively, "Once she gets home, Mum'll help her get over it."

Harry and Hermione exchanged sceptical looks at the lazy reassurance from their friend. Harry made a note to track down the only female Weasley and straighten a few things out with her before they left on the Hogwarts Express the next week.

"Mr Potter." the precise speech of Professor Minerva McGonagall echoed across the Library, earning a scowl from Madame Pince, but no other reaction from the usually volatile librarian as the Transfiguration Professor walked across the Library towards Harry's table.

"Yes Professor?" Harry asked once she got close enough. He didn't want Madame Pince to take her anger out on him!

"Mr Potter, Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with yourself, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger in his office." the stern teacher informed him, "I am told that you know the password."

"Y-yes I do." Harry replied, his mind racing. What now? "Thank you for telling me."

Professor McGonagall merely nodded before striding out of the Library. Harry turned to Hermione and was amused to see that the bookworm was torn between which books to take out and which to put back on the shelves. He casually offered to let her use his own allotment of books, which earned him one of the bushy-haired girl's patented hugs before she tore off towards Madame Pince's desk with the large stack of books in tow.

"Blimey." Ron remarked, "_Mental_ that one."

After Hermione checked out what seemed like half of the Library and deposited the books in her dorm room, the trio set out for Dumbledore's office. When Harry gave the password and the gargoyle jumped to one side, Hermione started muttering under her breath as she tried to figure out which spells made it move, which made Harry grin slightly.

"Ah Harry." Dumbledore greeted him from his desk as he finished writing something on a piece of parchment, "Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, I am pleased you both came along with Harry, as there are some things which you need to be informed of. Allow me to draw you both a chair."

The Headmaster did precisely that, conjuring a pair of squashy armchairs with a couple of careless flicks of his wand on either side of the chair already present in front of his desk. Harry was gestured towards that one, while Ron and Hermione sat in the other two.

"Now then, to start with Harry, your statement from Gringotts arrived." Dumbledore said, "I have, you understand, had a mail-diversion ward placed on Privet Drive and Hogwarts so that any malicious letters, fan mail and any other letters addressed to you from people you don't know are diverted to me."

"Thank you for that sir." Harry said, shuddering at the thought of a deluge of fan mail from unknown people, but… "Could you alter them so I can get statements from my Account Manager though? It would be a bit inconvenient for both of us if I have to have to pick them up from you all the time."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Quite so. I have since altered the Hogwarts wards thusly and will take care of your relative's wards when I visit them the day after tomorrow. In the meantime, here is your statement."

He passed to Harry a thick parchment envelope with his name of it and held shut with the Gringotts seal. Harry took it and placed it on his lap before returning his attention to Dumbledore.

"Moving on, might I enquire how much you have told your two friends here about your…situation?" Dumbledore asked tactfully.

Harry gave the Professor a rundown of what he had told Ron and Hermione, which he had to admit, was a series of tantalising hints and shadowy maybes.

"That was rather well done, Harry." Dumbledore observed once he had heard everything, "Doubtlessly frustrating for Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, but you did, I believe, tell them what little you could without being a Secret Keeper."

"Professor, Harry said that he wouldn't tell us what he could before we were told what he couldn't tell us." Hermione piped up, "Why is that?"

"Ah, an excellent question Miss Granger." Dumbledore said with a smile, "Part of the reason is that without the necessary background knowledge, what Harry has held back from telling you has little context and will be hard to understand. The main reason Harry has not told you what he can, however, is that he fears losing your friendship, Miss Granger."

This earned Harry a pair of smacks on the arm from both of his friends along with a glare from Hermione.

"Now then, Miss Granger, please read this piece of parchment and then pass it to Mr Weasley." Dumbledore passed a small piece of parchment to Hermione, who scanned it rapidly and then gasped once she finished it.

"Merlin!" she looked at Harry, a mix of pity and comprehension in her eyes. She absently passed the scrap of parchment to Ron who's eyes bugged out when he read the parchment.

"_Bloody_ _Hell!_" he shouted.

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded.

"Hermione, I think that when your best mate pinches _You-Know-Who's _bloody _Noble Title_ after kicking his arse three times in a row, worrying about swearing is a little daft!" Ron told her heatedly.

"But I don't understand!" Hermione ignored Ron and turned to the Headmaster, "Harry's only defeated You-Know-Who twice, once as a baby and once in First Year. The diary wasn't him, so why did the law invoke itself?"

"Evidently it was Voldemort, Miss Granger." Dumbledore replied calmly, ignoring Ron's muffled yelp at _the name _being uttered, "The magic that detects this sort of thing, Sovereignty Magic, is never mistaken. We should assume that there was something that we do not know about the diary that allowed the memory of Tom Riddle to qualify as Voldemort for the law to invoke itself…which caused another law to invoke itself."

"_Another one?!_" Ron exclaimed. _One_ ancient law being invoked on someone was as rare as hen's teeth, but _two_? On the same person? It was nigh unheard of.

"Er…yeah." Harry said with a flush, "You see…I was already going to be the Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, as well as the Head of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell. Getting the 'Lord Slytherin' title activated the Bloodline Legacy Continuation Act-"

"-Meaning that Harry here is _required_, by _ancient law_, to wed three witches, one for every title he holds." Dumbledore smoothly interjected himself into the explanation, "He cannot get out of it and the consequences for ignoring it are…unpleasant, to say the least."

Hermione's mind had frozen. Harry, her best friend, had to marry three times? She was…unspeakably angry. Not with Harry or Professor Dumbledore, but they were all she had to take her anger out on, so she opened her mouth to start a tirade, when Harry raised his hand in a 'stop' gesture.

"Before you start 'Mione, remember what I told you before we went to visit Hagrid; I have tried to find a way out of this. I do not want it and did not try to get it. Short of me dying, I am stuck." Harry said before he settled back and watched Hermione carefully.

The bushy-haired witch closed her still open mouth with an audible 'click' and began to think. Harry didn't want to get married three times. He had told her several times in the last day how he had attempted -and failed- to find a way out of this situation. She really couldn't be angry with him.

"Professor, why is such an antique and out of date law still on the books?" Hermione asked coolly.

"Because, alas, the only way to remove it is with Merlin's own Keystone, which he hid somewhere shortly before the fall of Camelot." Dumbledore replied, "Before the Keystone, only a founding member of the original Wizard's Council could add or remove laws to the Sovereignty Magic. Without one of these, I am afraid we are rather stuck with them."

Ron, who had been sitting surprisingly quietly for him, spoke up then, "What are the consequences if Harry doesn't pick wives? If he does nothing?"

"By the time he turns seventeen, he is to be engaged to marry three witches." Dumbledore replied, "Should he not be, the _Fidelius_ guarding the initial law, the Line and Lineage Conquering Act, will be broken and the Wizengamot will be put in charge of selecting witches for any unfilled titles. And, regrettably, they are likely to pick the daughters of members of Voldemort's supporters."

"So if he does nothing, it's checkmate." Ron said thoughtfully.

"Ronald! Harry is being strong-armed into marrying three witches!" Hermione lambasted him, "Aren't you the _least_ bit _angry_ about this?"

"No." Ron replied simply, "I've known that some laws are the will of magic itself since I was young. Harry didn't know about them, but he is still subject to them, as are you Hermione, at least those that don't specify any lower limits of blood purity."

"Quite right Mr Weasley." Dumbledore broke in, "For example, the Merlin Amendment states that someone has to be at least one-sixteenth of a blood descendent to be a head of house. Harry, as an exact Half-blood, is far more than qualified to be the Head of any Noble House, at least by those rules."

"But…but…this is _wrong_!" Hermione protested.

"We are aware of that Miss Granger, but beating our heads against a brick wall will not change the facts before us." Dumbledore told her solemnly, "Harry has trusted you both with this knowledge despite the fact he knows that you in particular Miss Granger are likely to disapprove of this. What he needs from you both is your support, not constant repetitions of 'this is wrong'."

The venerable Headmaster stood and walked around his desk and towards the door. "I shall loan you my office for a private conversation between yourselves for the next…five minute or so, while I fetch a snack from the kitchens." he continued, "I trust you will sort things out between yourselves in that timeframe."

With that, Dumbledore opened the door and walked out with a jaunty step. As the wooden door closed with a light click, the silence in the office began to become deafening until Harry snorted in amusement.

"That has to be the moist tactful 'make up now or else' command I have ever heard." he observed.

"Mum would have whacked us over the head with a spoon and stood over us while we said everything." Ron mused, "Then serve up a meal fit to feed all of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"It's all very well to tell us to 'sort things out between us', but this can't _be_ sorted out!" Hermione said sourly, "My one of my best friends is being forced to marry _three_ women at the same time! This law is sexist and demeaning towards women!"

"Hermione, didn't you listen to Dumbledore?" Ron asked slowly, "The only thing that can remove the law has been lost for hundreds of years. No wizard or witch who has tried to alter the Sovereignty Magic without Merlin's Keystone has survived the experience. The magic was too powerful for them and drained their magic until they died."

"I refuse to believe that there is nothing that can be done!" Hermione insisted stubbornly.

"**Oi!**" Harry yelled, getting the two out of their usual pattern of bickering for once, "Look, there are three things I can do here. First, do nothing. The result of which will be the likes of Lucius Malfoy choosing who I marry, from people like Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson."

Hermione scowled at the mention of the two bullying girls who pandered and fawned over Malfoy like he was the Second Coming, while Ron looked green at the thought.

"Second, I can off myself, because that is literally the only way I am getting out of this, from everything that I have read and what my Goblin Account Manager has told me."

"Yeah, **not** happening." Ron said firmly, Hermione nodding frantically along with him.

"That only leaves me with the least desirable option: Find and marry three witches before I am twenty-one, getting engaged before I am seventeen." Harry shrugged helplessly, "I don't like it and wish I didn't have to go through with it, but given my choices, it is the only reasonable choice to make."

Hermione 'harrumphed' lightly but nodded reluctantly. "I hate to admit it, but you have a point." she sighed.

"Any clue who you're going to ask?" Ron asked shrewdly.

"Not a one." Harry replied, "Two of my…_wives_…have to be Purebloods, House Peverell and Slytherin. Peverell also stipulates that she be magically powerful and not have any 'unsightly blemishes on her countenance'."

"Eh?" Ron asked.

"She can't have boils or acne on her face." Hermione dumbed it down for him.

"Oh. Well, at least that rules out Eloise Midgeon." Ron remarked.

Harry frowned. "The girl with pretty bad acne?" he clarified.

"That's her." Ron nodded.

"OK then. Anyway, the only other stipulation from House Peverell is that she come from a family who is at least an Ancient House, like the Weasley Family." Harry moved on.

"Blimey. What about Slytherin?" Ron asked.

"Just…just that she be a Pureblood and that she remains a v…v…_v-virgin_ until her wedding night." Harry flushed red at having to say _this_ kind of thing in front of _Hermione_, who was also a bit red.

"And…House Potter?" Ron asked, oblivious to their discomfort, evidently still being at the girls-are-weird level of mental male maturity.

"I have to love her. That's it." Harry replied with a small smile.

"Right then." Hermione said getting her steely analytical look on her face, "So we know the criteria of each family requirements for marriage, plus the deadline, your seventeenth birthday. We have just over four years to find three girls that would be willing to share you with each other and aren't likely to betray you for You-Know-Who's agenda."

"That sums it up quite nicely." Harry noted.

"Well any of the Slytherins are out!" Ron stated.

"Dumbledore said that I shouldn't let my dislike of Malfoy tar all of Slytherin with the same brush." Harry countered, "He even mentioned one…Greengrass, I think her surname was?"

"Daphne? In our year?" Hermione checked. When Harry confirmed that, Hermione nodded in apparent agreement.

"Daphne is known as the 'Ice Queen' of Slytherin as she rebuffs anyone who approaches her. She is very smart, coming in very close to me in our year's overall rankings and I think she has a sister who is in her First Year at the moment." Hermione reeled off what she knew of her.

"Dumbledore also says that the Greengrass Family is one of the Neutral section of the Wizengamot." Harry added, "They weren't Voldemort -oh, _stop flinching _at the name already Ron!- _Voldemort_ supporters or Death Eaters in the last war, they kept out of it."

"So…a possible?" Hermione asked delicately.

"I don't know her from a hole in the wall Hermione." Harry said, "And if she's anything like you, she'll have taken Study of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, not Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Although…"

He trailed off and looked thoughtful. "I've been thinking…" Harry continued slowly, "In First Year, we had Quirrellmort and the Philosopher's Stone and _this_ Year we had the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' incident and the Basilisk. If things keep happening like this, I think I'm going to have to study a lot harder if I want to survive."

"Hate to say it, but you do have a point mate." Ron said with a grimace.

"So?" Hermione had guessed what Harry was going to say, but waited to hear him say it.

"Looking at it, I don't really think that Divination will help me much." Harry said firmly, "I mean, sure, IF I were a Seer, it would be useful, but I'm not. I think I'll speak to McGonagall and see If I can drop Divination and take Study of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy instead."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione squealed, "I am SO proud of you!"

She leaned over and hugged him as she spoke, then leaned back and beamed at him. She loved learning and was frequently alone in her seriousness in studying, even with the more mature members of her year, so she was delighted that Harry was finally taking his studies seriously.

"Blimey, mate. You want to take the maximum amount of classes you're allowed to take?" Ron asked in amazement.

Harry shrugged and said, "CoMC will be useful for any Dark creature s I have to face…like bloody Basilisks! Arithmancy is used to scientifically predict the future based on numerology, as well as create spells. Runes will let me make wards and improve my ability to enchant and augment items."

He caught Hermione and Ron's looks of amazement. "Hey, I've been thinking about this since just after I killed the Basilisk, alright…and doing some reading." he defended himself.

"I know." Hermione smiled, "You weren't exactly subtle about it, you know."

"To most people, I _was_ subtle." Harry retorted, "You just know me too well."

"I would have to agree with Harry here." an amused voice said from the door. Albus Dumbledore stood in the open door, a tray of scones, jam and butter in one hand, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

"He is actually very stealthy and unobtrusive when he wishes to, particularly when he uses that rather magnificent cloak of his father's." the elderly man continued as he strode around his desk and placed the tray in front of the trio.

"Help yourselves." He invited as he spread a thick coat of butter across one scone and bit into it.

Ron needed no second invitation and eagerly dug in. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look of mingled fondness and exasperation with their gluttonous friend and silently agreed to put off any further discussion of Harry's problem until later.

"When did you get here sir?" Harry asked as he reached for a scone himself, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Around about the time you were discussing changing your electives." Dumbledore replied, "I must agree with your choices Harry. I have never liked the art of Divination myself and would have preferred to discontinue the subject. Alas, the Headmaster's Oath means that so long as I can find teachers for a subject, I must continue them."

"Do you mean the oath written by Rowena Ravenclaw just before she fell prey to the wasting sickness that killed her?" Hermione asked.

"The very same." Dumbledore nodded as he spread some raspberry jam over another scone, "But to be precise, she ensured that each Founder wrote a part of the Oath. Her own section of the Oath was 'I do solemnly swear to keep this bastion of knowledge available to all who would learn, and I do vow that all knowledge will be of equal standing and available to all students.'"

"I read that some subject have been removed from the curriculum by past Headmasters though." Hermione said with a frown.

"True, but that was in response to changing times." Dumbledore replied, "Sword Duelling was removed when Muggles outlawed any but the military from carrying them. Alchemy was discontinued due to the fact it was outdated and had long since been surpassed by other branches of magic, other than the Philosopher's Stone. Most of the textbooks are actually still in the Library, so feel free to study them if you wish."

"So…you think I am doing the right thing by changing my courses then, sir?" Harry asked.

"Oh, quite so." Dumbledore replied, "In fact, allow me to pass your course changes on to Professor McGonagall for you, dear boy."

"Thank you sir." Harry said in surprise.

"Think nothing of it." Dumbledore waved Harry's thanks away airily, "Now, I would suggest you three head back to your common room for a while, taking care to stay away from the Grand Staircase as Peeves has a rather nasty prank in mind for the next person who tries to ascend them."

"Thanks for the tip sir." Harry replied as he and his friends rose to leave.

"Bye sir." Ron said as he surreptitiously wiped the scone crumbs from his robes.

"Ron!" Hermione noticed despite his attempted stealth and quickly _Scourgified_ the offending crumbs before beginning to scold him

As they left the office, still squabbling, Dumbledore was chuckling at the antics of the two friends and exchanged an amused glance with Harry before he followed his friends out the door.

"Hermione, the job of 'my mum' is already taken, so stop acting like her already!" Ron was saying to Hermione when Harry caught up with them.

"I'm not! I'm just making sure you know when you have been impolite!" Hermione fired back.

"Please see my last comment." Ron retorted. As the three crossed into a crossroad-like area of the school, a sneering voice called out from ahead of them.

"Well, well, look what we have here, it's Potty, the Weasel and the Mudblood." Draco Malfoy proclaimed as he strode forwards, his usual 'friends' (read: bodyguards) Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle Junior loomed behind him.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Harry sighed. He really didn't want to have to deal with the ball of spite that was the younger Malfoy.

"My father was _disgraced_ because of you, Potter." Malfoy said angrily, "He said to say watch your back…as well as your friend's backs…who knows what kind of…_accidents_…could happen to them…"

As Malfoy's voice trailed off in an attempt at a threatening manner, Ron, who's face had been growing steadily redder as the arrogant scion of the Malfoy family spoke, tried to draw his wand, only to remember it was gone, destroyed in the Chamber of Secrets by the idiot Lockhart.

"Ah, what's wrong Weasel? Lost your wand?" Malfoy sneered.

"Malfoy, shut up and watch your mouth when dealing with your superiors." Harry said flatly, making Malfoy's jaw drop.

"'Superior' The Weasel? Hardly." Draco scoffed.

"The Ancient House of Weasley actually IS superior to the Noble House of Malfoy," Harry corrected him, "But I was referring to you threatening a member of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter…in other words, **me**."

"Wha…you…half-blood scum!" Draco spat out incoherently.

"What, does it get your goat Malfoy? The fact that, despite your family having lived in Britain for almost _a thousand years_, you are _still_ not considered worthy of the title 'Noble and Ancient'?" Harry said softly, "Does it feel humiliating that Ron's family, who lost that title in the last two-hundred years, is STILL considered to outrank you? Oh, I think it _does_, doesn't it?"

"_Serpensortia_!" Malfoy screamed in rage as he pointed his wand at Harry, conjuring a large black snake that hissed at Harry threateningly.

"You have a really bad memory Malfoy." Harry smirked before turning his attention to the snake.

/Find the nearest window and leave this castle. Never attack a human.\ Harry hissed in Parseltongue at the snake.

/By your will, Speaker.\ the snake hissed and slithered away.

Malfoy flushed red at Harry's casual dismissal of his conjured snake, not even bothering to draw his wand to deal with it.

"_Locomotor Wibbly_!" he snarled, sending the Jelly-Legs Jinx at Harry this time, who dodged tot the side and drew his own wand.

"_Mucus ad Nauseam Maxima!_" he shouted, sending the most powerful version of the Curse of the Bogies at Malfoy in a jet of green light, which struck the white-haired brat in his chest.

"A-a-a-a-a-a-a-achooo!" Malfoy sneezed, spraying the ground in front of him with what looked like a pint of snot, making Ron go, "_Ewww_."

The half-trolls -pardon me, _bodyguards_ began to move towards Harry threateningly, making him switch his attention to them.

"_Partum est Puris_!" Harry shouted, a loud 'bang' coming from his wand and his target, Crabbe, who reeled back as a large amount of sickening yellow pus erupted from his nose.

"_Terit_!" Goyle rasped, sending a Stinging Hex at Harry, who winced as his off-hand was struck and started to swell up like a balloon.

"_Steleus_!" he countered, hitting the mean-spirited boy with a series of green rings that made him sneeze uncontrollably.

Harry then returned his attention to Malfoy, who looked like he was having the most severe flu case in the world.

"I have _heard_ your message, _Malfoy_." Harry said coldly, "Now, take one back to your _dear_ old dad _for me_. Tell Lucy the Loser that if he so much as _touches_ my friends, I will make your life at Hogwarts a _hell _from which you will _not_ wake from. Tell him he is _pathetic_ and a _coward_. Tell him he is a _hypocrite_ who follows a _half-blood_. Look up the history of one Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior. _That_ is whom he serves.

Now go to the Hospital Wing with your boy-toys and out of my sight!"

Malfoy and his goons staggered off towards the Hospital Wing, too bunged up with their various curses to even sneer at Harry as they went.

Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione, who were gaping at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Mate, was that first one the Curse of the Bogies?" Ron asked, almost reverently.

"Yep. Found the basic version in the Library, along with the more powerful version I just used on Malfoy." Harry replied, "Even _with _the counter-curse, he's still going to have a head cold for the next week, one that Pepper-Up Potions won't work on well."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side mate." Ron said as he shook his head, "And can you teach me that?"

"Sure." Harry laughed, "Once you get a new wand."

"Merlin, I _hate_ not having my wand." Ron groused, "Even the broken one was better than this. Bloody Lockhart."

"Ronald! Language!" Hermione scolded, "And Harry, you might want to do something about your left hand."

"Oh, right." Harry saw that his hand looked like a blown up glove.

"_Reparifors_" he said, pointing his wand at his hand, causing it to reduce in size to normal.

"Good thing you looked that up after we learned the Stinging Hex, 'Mione." Harry said with a grin. The _Reparifors_ spell was good at dealing with very minor magically induced afflictions, just like the Stinging hex.

"What would you two do without me?" Hermione asked rhetorically as she led the trio towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

"I don't want to find out." Harry muttered as they approached the Fat Lady.

A shriek came from the other side of the Fat Lady, in the Grand Staircase, which made Harry grin.

"Sounds like Peeves caught Malfoy in his prank." he remarked.

"My day is complete." Ron said happily.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Next Chapter: Ice and Fire**

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Can I just say how **_**irritating**_** it is to have fics removed? Seriously, I can understand not being allowed to create **_**new**_** stories for a while, but not being allowed to **_**update**_** stories that are **_**not**_** a part of the issue is quite irritating.**

**OK, Rant over.**

**Moving along, I will now address a few concerns raised by reviewers. Yes, there will be **_**no**_** Weasley or Dumbledore bashing in this story. There will also be **_**no**_** mention **_**whatsoever**_** of Dimensional Trunks, foreign villas or miscellaneous dramatis personae introductions. Those are **_**waaaay**_** too cliché for my liking.**

**People say that what I'm writing is cliché as well. I look at it as a new take on an old premise. I can only think of one or two stories that has Harry forced to take on extra wives rather than seeking them out.**

**A plot hole that one reviewer spotted will be explained in this chapter, although that isn't as a result of the review; it was planned the entire time.**

**And can guest reviewers like PaC please limit themselves to one review per chapter? And have said reviews be about the story, rather than other peoples reviews?**

**Enjoy and please review.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

"Harry" -Speech

'_Ginny_' -Thoughts

/Bill\ -Foreign/Non-human Language

**Chapter 3: Ice and Fire**

As soon as they got back to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry went up to his dorm room and fetched the law book. He gave it to Hermione, who immediately sat down in 'their' seat next to the fireplace and began to read the book from cover to cover.

"You know she's going to be the next best thing to unresponsive while she's reading that, right?" Ron said with an eye roll at their bookworm of a friend.

"Probably." Harry agreed, "But it's the only book I can give her as I still have to finish reading the other two. And you _know_ that Hermione wouldn't rest until she had at least one of them to read."

Ron snorted in agreement. Hermione, once she got over her shock at Harry cursing Malfoy and his thugs, had remembered that Harry had been given books by Dumbledore and had practically begged to read them.

"Fancy a game of chess then Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry winced. He was certain that Ron's chessmen were completely biased against anyone who wasn't a Weasley and he had lost the set he had won from a Wizard Cracker last year.

"Sorry mate, I was going to have a walk." Harry apologised hastily, not wanting to get his rear-end kicked at chess yet again, "Been reading too much, you know?"

Ron nodded. "Right. I'll se if Neville wants to play then."

Harry swiftly made a strategic withdrawal out of the common room while Ron searched for a new victim/opponent. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry decided to go to the Library and do a bit more spell research, then see if he could track down Ginny and have a word with her.

On his way, he spotted the resident pranksters, Fred and George Weasley, legging it down a corridor, Argus Filch the Caretaker in hot pursuit screaming at them to, "Leave his poor Mrs Norris alone after her horrible petrifaction experience!"

Trailing after the three running figures was Filch's pet cat, Mrs Norris, staggering drunkenly along on all four feet looking quite shell-shocked…and colourful. Literally. She looked like she'd been attacked by a bevy of hyperactive kids armed with poster paint, greatly resembling a piñata Harry had seen while out shopping with his Aunt Petunia.

"Looks like those two are in fine form as always." Harry muttered as he continued on to the Library.

Ten minutes later found Harry delving through a large tome he had found entitled '_The Book of Cursed Fun: a Treatise_' by Annie N I Mouse. Harry had muttered again about the lack of imagination that wizards had when coming up with pseudonyms before heaving the book to a table and beginning to thrash his way through it.

"A Gryffindor who _isn't_ Granger studying when no exams are the next day? How odd." a cool female voice said from Harry's right. He looked up to see a girl about his age with long blond hair, piercing blue eyes and wearing robes trimmed with Slytherin green and silver.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked shortly. He really didn't want to have to deal with someone from Slytherin heckling him right now.

"No, I was merely remarking on the oddity of a Gryff' studying when there is no clear need to." she replied with a sardonic smile.

"Considering Lockhart only taught us one thing in DADA this year -Do Not Let Cornish Pixies Run Wild- I've been trying to study something that is of more practical use." Harry said dryly.

"You mean you _haven't_ been doing that all year?" the girls said in mild surprise, "Goodness, it is a good thing we have no exams if that's the case."

"Coming into the Library when everyone is whispering about you is hardly enjoyable or conductive to learning." Harry riposted, "Besides, DADA is my best subject. I even outscored Hermione on the practical last year."

"Oh? Not on the theory?" the girl asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Writing about something doesn't prove you can do the spellwork." Harry replied with a shrug, "If my theory work isn't up to scratch, my practical more than makes up for it."

"How very Gryffindor of you, Potter." the girl remarked, "You do realise that having a poor theory grade lowers your overall score for that subject?"

"My score isn't so much 'low' as it is 'average'." Harry replied, "And might I know who you are as you already seem to know me."

"Daphne Greengrass, Heiress of the Noble House of Greengrass." the girl said curtly, "You are an enigma, Potter. You are the last of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, a family of high importance and influence in the Wizengamot, yet no one knows anything about you, as a person, just the usual Boy-Who-Lived nonsense."

Harry was shocked to meet the person who Professor Dumbledore had told him about so suddenly, but quickly brought himself back to the conversation at hand.

"Considering I've lived with Muggles for the first ten years of my life, completely out of contact with -and with no knowledge of- the Wizarding World, that isn't much of a surprise." Harry observed.

"So you do live with your Muggle relatives?" Daphne asked, blue eyes locked on Harry's own emerald eyes, "My father has remarked on how unusual that is. I severely doubt that any Wizarding Family would have refused to foster you, so why are you with Muggles?"

Harry smiled coldly. "And how many of those Wizarding Households were supporters of Voldemort?" he asked softly.

The girl almost levitated in fright at hearing 'the name' and her eyes widened in shock. "_Don't say the name_!" she hissed.

"Why?" Harry asked bluntly.

"_Why? _Just don't do it!" Daphne snapped.

"I'm serious. Why is it such a bad thing to say the Dark Tosser's name?" Harry asked, "I get he was an evil guy, but otherwise I'm not seeing any kind of reason for it."

If saying Voldemort's name frightened her, taking the mickey out of his _formal_ _title_ made her gape in astonishment, her face white as chalk.

"Are. You. _Insane?!_" she asked in a quiet, cold voice, "He isn't just an 'evil guy', he was the most powerful Dark Wizard in history! He killed so many people -Aurors, Hitwizards, families- that his very presence caused fear in his enemies! He regularly duelled against odds of ten to one and emerged victorious, which only Dumbledore and Grindelwald have been known to do in the last five centuries!"

"He's dead though." Harry pointed out, although he knew it was a lie. He had fought off the ephemeral wraith of Voldemort last year.

"That _isn't_ the point." Daphne said with forced calm, "The point is that people still fear him, still live in terror of him returning. He was so powerful that the shock of you defeating him as a baby made some whisper that he had merely withdrawn to regain his power, biding his time to return and wreak havoc on Wizarding Britain. That's why no one says his name, as everyone who was brave enough to say it during his war, minus Dumbledore, invariably ended up _dead_."

"_Finally_, a reasonable answer." Harry said with satisfaction, "No one has been able to give me one that made sense until now. I'm still going to keep using his name though, no offence."

"Why?!" Daphne asked incredulously.

"He tried to kill me once and failed." Harry replied, gesturing at his scar slightly, "If he does come back, he cannot let that stand. I'll be a target regardless of what I say or do."

Daphne shook her head slowly, "You really are a Gryffindor through and through, aren't you?" she asked rhetorically.

"The Sorting Hat would disagree with you." Harry replied with a shrug as he returned his attention to the book in front of him and started scribbling down the incantation and effects of the Arm-Twisting Curse (_Armis __Detorquent_), "It said I could do well in any House."

"Even Slytherin?" her scepticism was self evident in both her speech and body language.

"It was a tossup between Gryffindor and Slytherin in the end." Harry replied as he finished with the Arm Twisting Curse and moved on to the Defenestration Hex (_Projectus Fenestra_), "I wanted to be as _far_ away from Malfoy as I could, so I asked for Gryffindor."

"You'd met him before Hogwarts." Daphne's voice had become dry with irony.

"In Madame Malkins." Harry replied, "He reminded me too much of my cousin Dudley: a spoilt brat who had never had his parents say 'no' to him enough. On the Hogwarts Express, he and his boy toys showed themselves to be like Dudley yet again: cowardly bullies who run at the first sign of trouble."

Harry finished the notes of the Defenestration Hex and spotted one he'd like to use on Malfoy at some point: the _Melofors_ Jinx, which encased the target's head in a pumpkin.

"Is that why you sent him, Crabbe and Goyle to the Hospital Wing earlier?" Daphne asked archly.

"No, that is because he tried to attack me. Ditto for the bookends." Harry said firmly, "I also hate it when he calls Hermione…_that_ word."

"Ah. Understandable." Daphne admitted slowly, "So…you and Granger?"

"What?" Harry looked up at her for a moment before shaking his head, "No, we're…not like that. I'm just protective of her and vice versa. Neither of us had friends before Hogwarts, so we tend to be protective of what friends we do have."

"Hmm…Surprising." Daphne commented, "I would have thought you would have a couple of Wizarding friends at least."

"Nope. When I say I was cut off from the Wizarding World, I _mean_ it." Harry replied as he finished copying down the Melofors Jinx and began on the Inversion Charm (_Disputatio_) which was a sort of very minor Shield Charm that reflected minor hexes and jinxes to the one who cast them in the first place, "As for Muggle friends, my cousin beat up anyone who might have befriended me, so that was a no-go."

"And Granger?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Not my story to tell. If you want to know, ask her in Arithmancy next year." Harry replied.

"How did _you_ know I'm taking Arithmancy next year?" Daphne asked sharply.

"You just told me." Harry replied, making Daphne curse under her breath, "But when Hermione was talking about taking Arithmancy herself, she made a list of people likely to take it as well, your name being at the top of the list."

Daphne didn't like it that a _Gryffindor_, of all people, was able to predict her actions, even about something like course selection, so she fell back on snarking at the nearest available target: Harry.

"What about _you_? Care of Magical Creatures and Divination I'll bet." Daphne sneered.

"At first, yes, but having thought about it, I've changed from Divination to Study of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy." Harry replied evenly, not deigning to rise to the rattled Slytherin's taunts.

Daphne was once again thrown off in this conversation by something Harry had said, which she was not used to when speaking to those of other Houses. Even within her own House, very few could throw her off guard like this, all of them being Sixth or Seventh Years.

"Why not drop CoMC?" she asked eventually.

"I seem to run across Dark or otherwise dangerous creatures far too often." Harry replied, "Trolls, Cerberuses, Acromantula, Basilisks…who knows what else I'll come up against next. Might as well get used to dealing with them."

"A _Basilisk_? Potter, there hasn't been a Basilisk in Britain for hundreds of years." Daphne scoffed, "They are illegal to create and are classed as XXXXX category monsters by the Ministry of Magic. You cannot _seriously_ expect me to _believe_ that you've survived an encounter with one."

"The Monster of the Chamber of Secrets was a thousand-year-old Basilisk." Harry said coolly, "Only a Parseltongue like Salazar Slytherin could control it, or even get to it. I've been hearing it slither around the school all year. It was sixty or more feet long and a poisonous green colour. We were really luck no one died, unlike fifty years ago."

"Wait, what? A Basilisk kills just by looking someone in the eyes, so how did no one die?" Daphne asked incredulously.

Harry sighed. "_None_ of the victims looked it _directly_ in the eyes. Mrs Norris saw its reflection in the floodwater outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Colin saw it through his camera, Justin saw it through Nearly-Headless Nick, Nick's a ghost and therefore _cannot _die and finally, Hermione and Penelope Clearwater saw its reflection in a compact hand mirror. Sheer dumb luck, but I'll take it if it means no-one died."

Daphne was stunned. He had extrapolated the likely situations that each victim had been in and come up with a theory that fit. A suspicion made itself known to her mind.

"How much help did Granger give you before she was petrified?" she asked, her eyes narrowed as she concentrated on Harry's face.

"Technically none as she was petrified before she could tell me anything." Harry replied, "But she had ripped a page from a book that held the relevant information and when she was petrified, she had it in her clenched hand. Ron and I found it when we visited her in the Hospital Wing the same day Ginny Weasley was taken into the Chamber."

"From that you deduced your hypothesis on how all the victims were petrified rather than killed." Daphne finished, "Then the Weasley girl was taken into the Chamber. So you did…what, exactly?"

"That, I am afraid, is not something I'd like to talk about with an acquaintance, especially in such a public place." Harry replied as he snapped the large book closed, "On that note, I should go. I have someone to find."

Daphne eyed the black-haired boy as he rolled up the parchment he had copied the varied spells onto and tucked it into his robes before returning the book to the nearby desk and bid her goodbye politely.

'_Harry James Potter…an interesting boy._' Daphne thought with a small smile. Then a familiar blinding headache rose up, staggering her with its intensity.

"Of all the times…Dammit!" Daphne hissed. The pain continued for a while before fading. As it did, Daphne Greengrass' face smoothed into a haughty, imperious façade that discouraged anyone approaching her and she had an air about her that suggested that anyone who _did_ approach her would be hexed if they tried.

Striding forwards like royalty, the Ice Queen of Slytherin swept from the Library towards her own common room, no trace of her former self evident to the onlookers.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Half an hour later…**

**Entrance Hall**

"Where in Merlin's name _is she_?" Harry muttered to himself. He had just spent the last half hour looking high and low for Ginny, with absolutely no success. Ordinarily he would as Ron for help, but he knew that his friend was very lax with his sister's whereabouts, despite the recent scare he had with her being taken into the Chamber.

'_Besides, he seems to think that his mother can just wave her wand and make any residual effects from the last year vanish._' Harry though sourly. He liked Ron as a friend and knew he could be very smart when he wanted to be, but he was very short sighted when it came to emotional matters.

What Ginny had been through was not going to just go away with a kiss and a cuddle from Molly Weasley. He had seen a large amount of self-inflicted guilt in Ginny's eyes whenever he had seen her in the week or so since the Chamber Incident and knew that she was blaming herself for what she had done under the influence of the diary.

Granted, he would feel just as guilty as she evidently did if their positions were reversed, possibly even more so, but that was entirely beside the point. Actually, because he understood how guilty she was feeling, he was the best person to talk to.

Spotting the Weasley Twins plotting in a corner, made Harry feel slightly relieved and a little apprehensive at what scheme the two of them were cooking up now.

"Gred! Forge!" he called out to them, calling them by the muddled up versions of their names that they frequently called each other.

"Ah, Harrykins!" one replied, grinning cheekily at him.

"To what do we owe the honour, oh mighty slayer of serpents?" the other twin asked, grinning in a mirror image of his brother.

"You two are really creepy when you 'twin-speak' like that, you know that?" Harry said with a headshake, "Listen, I'm looking for Ginny. Got any idea where she's disappeared to?"

"And why, may we ask-" one twin started.

"-do you want to see our darling little sister?" the other finished.

Harry sighed impatiently. "Not out in the open like this." he said, jerking his head towards the Grand Staircase.

The twins followed him until they found an empty classroom a couple of floors up. After they closed the door and inundated it with Silencing Charms, Notice-Me-Not Charms and a couple of nasty Trap Jinxes, they turned to Harry, an expectant look on their faces.

"Right. So…you both know how Ginny was possessed by the diary, right?" Harry began. Their parents had told them when they pulled the twins and Percy out of the impromptu feast that had been thrown the night that Harry and Ron had descended into the Chamber.

"Yup." one twin said.

"We should have paid more attention to her." the other one said remorsefully, "First time I've _ever_ felt bad about being outdone by Percy, that git."

"Uh-huh." Harry said, mentally rolling his eyes at the sibling rivalry between Mr 'rules-are-the-life of-me-Percy' and the Twins, who just didn't give a damn, "Well, haven't you noticed that she's feeling guilty? About what she did while under the influence of the diary?"

"She has." Twin B -who Harry tentatively labelled as George- said, "Been right gloomy she has."

"Not even pranking that git Malfoy and half of Slytherin has raised her spirits." Twin A added, "Think we should try again?"

"**OI!**" Harry bellowed before the two brothers could be caught up in prank planning again.

"Look, I need to speak to her, to try and reduce the guilt she's feeling." Harry said more calmly, once the twins returned their attention to him, "I'm probably the best person she can talk to about this."

"Oh? And why might that be?" Fred (?) asked.

"Who _else_ has killed a Basilisk and walked away to tell the tale?" Harry asked dryly, making the twins duck in embarrassment at neglecting to factor that in.

"Well now brother mine, this puts us in a quandary." George (?) remarked.

"Indeed it does." Fred (?) replied, "Our dear little sister has threatened to hex our bits off if we tell anyone where she's hiding-"

"-yet this is, I believe, one case where we must take one for the greater good of the family." George (?) finished, "She's taken refuge behind a mirror on the fourth floor. Used to be a secret passage, but the tunnel caved in a little way from the entrance, so all it's good for is as a small hidey-hole now-"

"-which is a _real_ shame as it used to go straight into Hogsmeade." added Fred (?), "Perfect for picking up Butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks or new pranking supplies from Zonkos Joke Shop."

"Right." Harry nodded, "How do you get to the passage? Is there a password or something?"

"Tap the bottom left hand corner with your wand and say 'Hypethrum Speculo'." George (?) told him, "The mirror will split down the middle and part for thirty seconds, so hurry and get through it before it closes."

"And to get out?" Harry asked. Two years in Hogwarts had honed Harry's paranoia to high levels when it came to secret passages, tunnels and stairways.

"Bottom right corner and the same words." Fred (?) replied, "Easy as pie. If Ginny asks…"

"I hexed you both into next week." Harry confirmed with a nod. It was odd that the Twins feared Ginny so much. Lockhart had been just as ineffective in the First Years' classes as he had been in the Second Years'. Harry supposed, as he parted company with the twins, that one of the other Weasley brothers had told her about a powerful spell of some sort that the two usually dauntless pranksters were wary of.

Making his way to the Fourth Floor via the Grand Staircase, Harry sought out the mirror that the twins had described to him. It was a large one that spanned the wall it was hung on, the frame carved with winding serpents and ravens.

After looking about furtively to confirm that the corridor was, in fact, deserted, Harry drew his wand and tapped the right hand corner, whispering, "Hypethrum Speculo," as he did. At once, the mirror's glass split in half and separated into an opening just large enough for a grown man to squeeze through, which was more than enough for the slightly built (and still small, damn it) Harry to slip through.

As he zipped through the opening, he found the end of a wand thrust into his face, one that was unfamiliar to him.

"Fred, George, I thought I said I don't want to see you prank Malfoy?" an annoyed female voice said. Ginny Weasley was sat on a chair, positively glaring into the rock and stone of the passage and had apparently drawn and pointed her wand on automatic.

"They already have." Harry said dryly, "As well as half of Slytherin House."

Ginny jumped in fright as he spoke, her head snapping around to see Harry grinning wryly at her and almost threw her wand to the ground in shock.

"Ha…Harry?" she squeaked, her face paling in shock, "H…How'd you…"

"I hexed Gred and Forge until they spilled where you were and how to get in here." Harry told her as he looked around the small space of what was once a tunnel. The cave in that had ended its use as a secret passage was about four meters away from the entrance. Evidently, the twins had been enterprising and had commandeered the space as their own, as there were chairs and desks that looked like they came from abandoned classrooms, as well as rugs and the odd parchment diagram here and there that outlines some of the Twins more elaborate pranks.

"Looks like Gred and Forge have been busy." Harry remarked as he looked around the space, "Mind if I have a seat, Ginny?"

"G-Go ahead." the redhead stuttered as she shakily stowed her wand back in her robe's pocket. Harry took the seat opposite her and continued examining the room that the twins had made of the old tunnel, deciding to pull a Dumbledore and wait for Ginny to speak first.

She was glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes every so often and fidgeting uncomfortably. From what Harry could tell though, she hadn't been crying, as her eyes weren't red or swollen.

"Umm…Harry?" Ginny said finally. Harry politely turned his attention to her as she spoke, "Why…did you go to the trouble of looking for me, and even hexing Fred and George?"

"I was worried about you Ginny." Harry replied honestly, "I've seen guilt in your eyes ever since your parents left and I have decided to set you straight about a couple of things."

Ginny's eyes narrowed at the mention of setting her straight and she sat up ramrod straight as she said, "About what exactly?"

"The diary, Tom Riddle and the Chamber." Harry said bluntly, ignoring her flinch at the mention of her tormentor, "I must ask that you keep what I am about to tell you a secret though. OK?"

Curiosity made Ginny nod in acceptance. Harry nodded back and began.

"I don't know how much you remember about…well, the Chamber or he conversation that took place in McGonagall's office." he began, "Can I assume you remember some of it?"

"The…The Chamber is blurry and hazy." Ginny admitted, "And I was too upset to really listen to everyone afterwards."

"Understandable." Harry said gently, "First, let me show you something the memory of Tom Riddle showed me."

Harry drew his wand, raised it and muttered, "_Flagrate!_" then swished the wand around as if he was writing in midair, leaving orange writing behind each swipe of his wand.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

"This is his full name." Harry told Ginny who was glaring in hatred at the name floating in front of her, "He made another name out of it. Watch."

He flicked his wand and the letters rearranged themselves to form four different words that made Ginny gasp in horror.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

"He…he was _You-Know-Who?!_" she squeaked, her face becoming pale once again.

"The sixteen year old version of the person who would _become_ Voldemort, yes." Harry replied, "He said he was only called this by his 'most intimate of friends' while at Hogwarts…and please stop flinching at the made up name, it's ridiculous."

"B-but…" Ginny was trembling, "He was _in my head!_ He…"

"Yes, that is something we need to talk about." Harry interrupted her before she could become hysterical, "Ginny, Madame Pomfrey gave you a clean bill of health, didn't she? Once I destroyed the diary, he was _gone_, along with any influence he had over you."

"It feels like he could still be there…waiting to take over." Ginny confessed in a small voice, "I stay awake at night because I'm afraid of what could happen…what _did_ happen when I fell asleep this year…and worst of all it was all my fault!"

"You're talking about what your father said, aren't you?" Harry asked shrewdly, remembering Arthur Weasley's admonishment: 'Never trust _anything_ that you can't see where it keeps its brains!'

"If I'd only listened to him, none of this this would have happened!" Ginny wailed.

"True." Harry acknowledged, shocking Ginny, "But you are an eleven year old girl who has grown up with magic as part of your daily life. A small thing such as a diary that can talk back wouldn't really register as something sinister or malicious to you, would it? It certainly didn't help that Tom Riddle was a very smooth talker and was probably able to sooth any suspicions you might have had, right?"

"Y-Yes…"Ginny looked at Harry in surprise, "You talk like you have experience of him doing that."

"Remember when I had the diary, before you stole it back?" Harry asked pointedly, making Ginny blush red as she nodded, "Well, Riddle told me exactly what I wanted to hear, then showed me his 'capture' of Hagrid, which was just him framing Hagrid for the death of Myrtle."

"Hagrid? The Heir of Slytherin? Who the _hell_ would believe that nonsense?" Ginny asked in disbelief.

"The Headmaster before Dumbledore, Armando Dippet." Harry replied, "He was over three-hundred years old, so…?"

He shrugged conveying that he personally thought the man had been senile. Ginny snorted in disgust at the man and the two shared a grin.

"Now, some part of your guilt comes from the fact you were overpowered so easily by him." Harry continued after a moment, "But, as Riddle himself said, by the time you realised what was going on, he was far more powerful than you were. The fact that so few were attacked is a testament to your willpower, I'd say."

"Wh…what do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"Tom Riddle was one of the best students in Hogwarts history, Ginny." Harry replied, "Professor Dumbledore said so himself. He was also immensely strong willed presumably, as magic follows intent. Yet overall, there were only five attacks, if I include your abduction into the Chamber. Why? You must be very strong willed to hold off Riddle for almost the entire school year whilst being totally unaware of what he was doing."

"Once I guessed that Tom…that the diary was making me do things, I tried to destroy it." Ginny admitted, "But instead, you found it."

"Yeah…Myrtle _really_ wasn't happy with you for doing that." Harry remarked dryly, "That's how I found it, she flooded the bathroom again. You should have tried burying it or something."

"I was too desperate to think clearly." Ginny said irritably.

"To return to my point, even after you got the diary back, the only attack made was against Hermione, which was part of Riddle's plan to get me to go down into the Chamber after he overpowered your will again. It worked." Harry continued.

"I should apologise to Hermione." Ginny said, drooping in her seat.

"No you don't." Harry said firmly, "The point of this entire talk is this: the person who did this to you was a memory doppelganger of a sixteen year old _Lord Voldemort_. No one could expect you to see through him or fully resist him successfully."

"But…"

Harry decided to take a leaf from Mrs Weasley's book this time. "Ginevra Molly Weasley, I can tell you how powerful Voldemort is." he said sharply, making her sit up straight, "He tried to steal the Philosophers Stone last year and it almost killed me to drive him off. The only reason I was able to do that was because of my mum's protection."

Ginny paled again. "He…he's still…alive…?" she whispered in shock.

"Define 'alive'." Harry snorted, "He's a pathetic little wraith-like spirit who can only possess people who allow him into themselves. Or animals, I suppose, and as Dumbledore said, he's floating about somewhere in darkest Albania right now, completely powerless and helpless."

"How…how did he almost kill you then?" Ginny challenged him.

"_He_ didn't." Harry said, "_Me driving him off _almost killed me. My mother sacrificed herself to try to save me, which created a powerful counter-charm. According to Professor Dumbledore, it is imbued into my very skin. Neither he nor anyone possessed by him can touch me without suffering immense pain. The length of time my mother's protection was active for drained my reserves and the protection activating, causing me immense pain, both of these facts combined to almost kill me. I was unconscious in the Hospital Wing for three days."

"I've never heard of such a spell like that." Ginny frowned in thought.

"It's ancient magic, magic that he overlooked and ignored as insignificant." Harry explained, "At least, that's what I gathered from what both Professor Dumbledore and Riddle said about it."

"Wow…" Ginny breathed in awe, but her warm brown eyes still betrayed that she wasn't fully convinced of her innocence.

Harry sighed. "Look at it this way Ginny. If I had been the one to be possessed by the diary, would you blame me?"

"No, of course not!" Ginny looked horrified at the very thought of doing so.

"Why? By your logic, even if I didn't know about the diary being a container of a memory of a sixteen year old Voldemort I would still be responsible." Harry pointed out, this time using one of Hermione's favourite tactics, browbeating the opposition with superior logic.

Ginny's mouth flapped open and closed for a moment before she sighed and nodded in defeat. "Since when did you start channelling Hermione?" she grumbled good-naturedly.

"I haven't been friends with her for just under two years without picking up some of her better traits." Harry replied with a grin, "Now, care to tell me why Gred and Forge are terrified of crossing you?"

Ginny grinned shyly at him. "I may be small, but I'm a fairly powerful witch. They irritated me at the start of term and I hit Fred with a Tickling Charm. He had to go to the Hospital Wing to have it removed, George couldn't remove it for him."

Harry raised an eyebrow. _Rictusempra_, the Tickling Charm, was a Second Year spell. How did Ginny know about it?

"I pinched Ron's books at the Burrow and had a read of them." Ginny said, having correctly read Harry's questioning look.

"Well, Ron wasn't reading them, so all the more power to you." Harry grinned at her, "How useless was Lockhart in your DADA classes by the way?"

"He didn't unleash a swarm of pixies in our class, but he _was_ chased around by a Doxy." Ginny grinned back.

"Want me to teach you a few spells?" Harry offered, "I've been researching some of them for the last week, since Lockhart was a twit."

"If…if it isn't a bother…" Ginny said shyly.

"I wouldn't have offered if it was a bother." Harry reassured her and stood up. He moved to a small strip where there was no furniture and beckoned her over.

"So then, the first spell I'm going to teach you is one I just hexed Malfoy with not long ago." he told her, "It's called the 'Curse of the Bogies'…"

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**At the same time…**

_Gryffindor Common Room_

_With Hermione…_

Hermione Granger was _not_ happy. Her best friend Harry was being strong-armed into marrying _three_ different witches simultaneously and every jot of evidence seemed to say, quite plainly, that no amount of protesting, procrastinating or predication would get him out of it.

She had been delighted when Harry had handed her the self-updating law book, because it allowed her to sift through the entire thing for ways to get Harry out of his predicament. She knew that the Blood Purity angle would be next to useless, thanks to the Merlin Amendment, but she was certain that there had to be some way of escape clause or something.

That had been at the start of her search. She had scoured the regular laws for any kind of solution and had come up totally blank. Now she was searching through the section on the ancient laws, thanking Merlin that she could speed-read, and hoping that she could find something to help Harry.

'_It's been bugging me for a while, but why was the Bloodline Continuation Act invoked?_' Hermione considered, '_Sure, Harry is technically Lord Slytherin right now, but the B.L.C.A. is all about _bloodlines_, not titles, so why did it activate?_'

She flicked through the pages until she found the B.L.C.A. pages. Running her finger down the numerous amendments that Merlin had tacked on to the law, Hermione's finger stopped at one particular one entitled 'the Founder's Amendment'.

'_In the case that a witch, wizard or other magical human (except a squib or part-human) should defeat the descendent and rightful Heir of one of the Four Founders of Hogwarts thrice and invoke the Line and Lineage Conquering Act as a result, in addition to being the Heir Primus for two other Wizarding Houses of at least the rank of Noble and Ancient, it is decreed that the magical human in question is required to be subjected to this Act of Magical Law. Once the person holding the title passes on and the Founder's title returns to the original line, the new line is to be renamed to include both of the Patriarch/Matriarch's Noble House names. So it is written, so mote it be._'

An additional note beneath the law noted that that particular Amendment was considered defunct as all but the line of Slytherin had been made extinct in the male name or died out completely before or after the first hundred years after the death of the last of the Founders, Godric Gryffindor. As of the 1930's, the House of Gaunt, Slytherin's last descendents, died out completely with the death of Morfin Gaunt in Azkaban.

Hermione bit her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. This was it. _This_ was the reason why Harry was being forced into the B.L.C.A., why his will was being ignored. It made the bushy-haired girl want to spit out more expletives than Ron had said in the last two years.

'_I can't give up. Not when Harry's future could be altered by anything that I discover!_' Hermione thought determinedly. She bent over the book with a stubborn set to her jaw, unwilling to yield to the inevitable.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Later that night…**

_High-Security Wing, Azkaban Prison, Azkaban Island, North Sea_

The stone cell was filthy with the muck of untold decades, the walls and floor caked in dirt, grease and dust. The only furnishing within the cell was an equally filthy, threadbare mattress laid upon a rusty bed frame, with a thin blanket serving as a duvet.

Huddled beneath the bed was a large black dog that had seen better days. Its fur was matted in places and you could see its ribs sticking out from under its skin.

The dog shivered as the freezing cold aura of the Dementors was extruded from the monstrous beings. The dog, in actual fact the prisoner called Sirius Black in his Animagus form, was not affected as badly as when he was human by the Dementors due to the less complex emotions of a dog, but the effects were bad enough after almost twelve years of constant exposure to them.

Within his mind, he chanted several things like a protective mantra.

'_I'm innocent, I'm innocent…Peter's the traitor, not me…Protect Harry…I'm innocent, I'm innocent…_'

The dog whined as the two Dementors right outside its cell were joined by a further two, increasing the frozen sensation of their aura even more.

'_I'm innocent…I'm innocent...I'M INNOCENT!_' Sirius chanted frantically in his mind as his personal hell redoubled in its efforts to break his mind.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Next Chapter: Return to Purgatory**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Just a quick note here. Do you really think I would entitle an Abuse chapter with Purgatory? Please. I have more subtlety than that…I think.**

**A definite list of the Harem might be up next chapter. Should I put it up? Shouldn't I? Hmm…let's see….**

**Read and Review please!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine.**

"Harry" -Speech

'_Ginny_' -Thoughts

/Bill\ -Foreign/Non-human Language

**Chapter 4: Return to Purgatory**

**Timeskip - Two Days Later**

_Living Room, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey_

Albus Dumbledore sat on the squashy armchair he had conjured -much to the homeowner's fury- and gazed solemnly at the three members of the Dursley Family.

Vernon Dursley was a man verging on life-threatening obesity, with almost no neck, small piggy blue eyes and red hair that was fading into grey. He was currently glaring at Dumbledore with intense dislike.

Petunia, his wife, was a stick-thin woman with an extra long neck and a great resemblance to a horse when she pursed her lips, as she was currently doing. She was fiddling with her blond hair and her watery green eyes betrayed worry for her family.

Dudley Dursley was almost a carbon copy of his father, with his mother's blond hair. He was currently sitting as far away as was physically possible from Dumbledore, a terrified look on his face and he was, for some odd reason, clasping his bottom tightly with both hands as if he were afraid someone would steal it or something.

"I am very disappointed in you, Petunia." Dumbledore spoke for the first time since he entered the house, sorrow in his voice.

"We took in that…_Freak!_…just as you asked us to!" Vernon answered for his wife, an ugly sneer crossing his face.

"I ask you to take him into your home, yes, but I also asked you to treat him as your own." Dumbledore replied coldly.

"He's nothing like my Dudley!" Vernon said vehemently, "No freakish whelp is like Dudley!"

"That is very much beside the point, Mr Dursley." Dumbledore said severely, "Regardless of your feeling towards Harry, you have treated him like a bonded servant or slave, making do all of the household chores whilst he grew up and quashed any spurts of imagination he possessed. The first time I met Harry at my school, I knew all this and more had been done to him."

Dumbledore's pale blue eyes lost their usual grandfatherly twinkle and became cold chips of ice that bore into the Dursley family like lasers as he spoke.

"Now I find out that he was thrown into a cupboard for the first decade of his life and, just to top it off, that you imprisoned him in his new room -full of _barely intact _third-hand furniture no less- and fed him substandard food in inadequate amounts. Were it not for the fact Harry needs to live here for the Bond of Blood Charm I cast on him after his mother's sacrifice to work, I would remove him from here post-haste and have you all sent to prison for child abuse."

This broke Vernon out of his paralysis. "For what?! He's a freak!"

"He is a young boy who has endured much in his young life." Dumbledore replied firmly, "Had his friends not effected his escape, he might have starved to death or, at the very least, been forced to recover at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for an extended period of time. That is extreme child abuse in the eyes of the law, regardless of your opinion in the matter."

Vernon Dursley's face had been a brilliant puce at the start of the conversation, but the blood drained from his face very rapidly at the end of Dumbledore's lecture, giving him a complexion rather like badly mixed raspberry ripple ice cream.

"What do you want us to do?" Petunia asked quietly, making Vernon and Dumbledore look at her in amazement, "I told you that it was a bad idea Vernon. The Boy didn't have his…_wand_…when the pudding floated. I'm all for punishing him when he does something wrong or uses his freakishness, but he wasn't even halfway down the stairs when the pudding was floating in midair and most of…_his kind_…need to see something in order to affect it."

"Quite so." Dumbledore agreed, "Even accidental magic, the entirely unintentional magic performed by children, almost always takes place in the child's immediate vicinity and within their line of sight. Besides, I have the evidence proving Harry wasn't the actual individual responsible and will be clearing him of this offence at the Ministry after this meeting.

To answer your question, Petunia, I would like it if you would remove the locks on Harry's door. He is not to be a prisoner again. Next, it would be appreciated by my staff if you could allow him to have access to his schoolbooks as he does have summer homework to be doing while he is here."

"_Fine._" Vernon ground out, "Anything _else_?"

"I am going upstairs in a moment to transfigure Harry some better furniture. Do not throw it out, destroy it or give it to your son." Dumbledore said with a pleasant smile that didn't extend to his eyes, "Harry is to fed a decent amount of food at least three times a day and you will not attempt to physically assault him. This last condition applies especially to your son. Any breech of these conditions will be discovered swiftly and then, charm or no charm, I will carry out my previous threat. Am I understood?"

"Not like we have much of a choice, do we?" Vernon grumbled.

"Quite the contrary. You had the choice eleven years ago to treat Harry like your own flesh and blood. You simply chose to let your own sense of inadequacy, jealousy and pig-headed stubbornness rule you rather than any sense of common decency." Dumbledore replied as he stood, "I will only be a few minutes in Harry's room, then I shall trouble you with my presence no further until the day after Harry's birthday, barring any emergencies."

"Now see here, you promised us minimal contact!" Vernon protested.

"By taking Harry in, you promised in return to treat him well." Dumbledore returned pleasantly, "I am afraid the previous arrangement is on a slight hiatus until we are certain you will keep your word."

Vernon swelled up like a balloon about to burst before whirling on Dudley, "Dudders, we're going out for a drive. By the time we get back, this…_gentleman_…will be gone. Petunia dear, please stay to make sure he doesn't do any unnaturalness outside of The Boy's room."

"Of course dear." Petunia replied, "Dinky Duddykins, you have a nice time with your father, you hear? I'll make your favourite meal for dinner, so look forward to it."

"Thanks mum." Dudley grunted before he waddled out after his father, the door slamming shut after him.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. Petunia was spoiling that boy beyond all possible hope of recovery. He had been an educator for well over ninety years and had long since memorised the signs of overly spoilt children, the Malfoy scions being prime examples, especially young Draco.

He made his way up the stairs with Petunia in tow and into Harry's room. Tsking at the poor excuses for furniture in the room, the aged Headmaster closed the curtains with one of his rare uses of wandless and silent spells.

Drawing his wand from his robe pocket, Dumbledore eyed the furniture with scarce regard. Even if he transfigured what little furniture in the room, it would not last very long, as one of the facts of magic that had been established quite early on was that a transfigured item was limited by the initial condition of the original item, and these were far beyond fixing with a simple '_Reparo_'.

"No, no, no. Starting over is far better." Dumbledore muttered and, with a wide sweep of his wand, Vanished the entirety of the contents of the room, even the carpet and wallpaper. He then proceeded to conjure a plush red carpet, red and gold wallpaper with lion rampant decals, a bed that bore remarkable similarity to Harry's own bed at Hogwarts, albeit a single bed rather than a four poster, a desk and chair, as well as a perch for Hedwig.

"There, that ought to last a couple of months." Dumbledore said in satisfaction as he re-pocketed his wand, "By that time I can acquire a set identical to this and simply swap them after Harry goes to Hogwarts."

"Is…is this the sort of furniture he has at that…school?" Petunia asked, eying the furniture in mistrust.

"Indeed." Dumbledore replied, "Hogwarts has had similarly designed beds, desks and chairs ever since its founding over a thousand years ago. On the rare occasion we have had to replace something completely, we employ a family of craftsmen to make them, a family who have done so ever since being asked to by the Founders."

"I…see…" Petunia looked uncomfortable, and then blurted out, "I tried to stop him, you know."

"Oh?" Dumbledore said neutrally.

"It's just, when Vernon gets that angry, he's nearly impossible to dissuade!" the sister of Lily Evans continued, "It was all I could do to persuade him that The Boy -Harry- should be fed, or there would be questions."

"Why did you not treat him better, Petunia?" Dumbledore asked, turning to face the woman slowly, "Why did you let Vernon run roughshod over your own nephew?"

"His eyes are exactly like Lily's." Petunia whispered, "We were so close once, then Magic took her from me…Magic and that Snape boy! Then she married Potter. Vernon was jealous of him, I could tell. Good looks, an easy manner and wealthy to boot…there was no way Vernon could compete with him.

That combined with his -our- aversion to everything not normal, made him…_volatile_…with Lily and James. When you left Harry with us…he saw it as a chance to make a freak normal and did everything he could to try and stamp out any trace of magic from him, possibly also as a way of taking revenge on James Potter for beating him at everything Vernon valued without even trying."

Dumbledore felt sick at this description of events that brought his poor sister Ariana sharply to the forefront of his mind, and the events that had destroyed his family all those years ago.

"Surely you managed to mitigate things somewhat?" he asked softly.

"Sometimes." Petunia confessed, "It was a promise Lily and I had, that if anything happened to one of us, we would look out for our family. Sometimes, I managed to manipulate the circumstances into a treat for Harry, like on Dudley's eleventh birthday. Other times…other times, I let my own selfish jealously for Lily get the better of me. His eyes…it's almost like Lily is looking out at me sometimes and that sets my jealousy off."

"You are fairly perceptive, Petunia." Dumbledore said quietly, "In a very real sense, she _is_ always with Harry. Lily stood in front of the most evil wizard in fifty years and refused to let him get at her son unless he went through her first. Her willing sacrifice cast a protective charm on Harry that ultimately destroyed Voldemort's body when he attacked Harry. That protection lingers in Harry to this day, imbued into his skin, his very blood. As long as Harry lives, Lily Marie Evans Potter is not truly dead. She lives on within her son, protecting him even now."

Petunia began to sob as she listened, her memory of Lily as she had last seen her at her wedding to that Potter man coming to the forefront of her mind. Smiling, happy, exuberant and hopeful for the future. She had truly been radiant that day.

"I shall take my leave now, Petunia." Dumbledore told her, "All I ask of you now is that you remember your promise to Lily and do your utmost to protect Harry from your husband's maliciousness."

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving behind a crying, bitter woman who had been at war with her own bitterness and jealousy for over fifteen years.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Ten Minutes Later…**

_Improper Use of Magic Office, Level 2 of the British Ministry of Magic Building_

"Ah, Mafalda. It is good to see you!" Dumbledore beamed at his former student.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?!" The witch he was addressing looked taken aback by the sudden visit by the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot into her busy office.

Mafalda Hopkirk was a thin, wispy witch in her late thirties, with already greying hair done up in a tight bun and hazel eyes. She was wearing plain back robes over a skirt and a striped blouse.

"To what do I owe the unexpected visit, Professor?" Mafalda asked nervously.

"Mafalda, I haven't been your Headmaster in years." Dumbledore said genially, "Please, call me Albus. As to why I am here…shall we talk in you private office?"

"Certainly. This way." Mafalda led him to a moderately large office in the back of the section that was allocated to her staff. She sat down behind her desk and nervously offered him some tea.

"Certainly. Some Assam would be lovely if you have any." Dumbledore replied with a smile.

Mafalda nodded and tapped her wand on a cup, filling it with the strong black tea, which Dumbledore sipped with a pleased hum. He always enjoyed a spot of well-made tea while he was politicking, which made the ban on liquids in the Chamber of the Wizengamot an irritating matter.

"Now, to the reason I am here." Dumbledore said as he set the cup back on its saucer, "It is to my understanding that you sent a warning to Mr Harry Potter this summer past."

"Y-yes. For illegal underage casting of the Hover Charm." Mafalda replied nervously.

"Ah, now you see, there is, I'm afraid, a story behind that." Dumbledore said, "A House Elf infiltrated Mr Potter's residence and deliberately mimicked his magical signature in order to simultaneously get him into trouble with the Ministry and alert his guardians that he wasn't allowed to use magic at home."

The witch looked startled. "An elf? Is there any proof, save for Mr Potter's word on the matter?"

"Mr Potter has graciously given me his memory of the incident." Dumbledore said as he removed the crystal vial from his robe pocket.

"He's a minor though." Mafalda protested even as she pulled out the department's Pensieve.

"That particular law only applied to memories given in a criminal case, Mafalda." Dumbledore reminded her, "In a case such as this, of underage magic, you have sole discretion on the matter. I have verified it is a true memory and completely free of fabrication or alteration spells, so the ball is entirely in your court."

Mafalda hesitated before nodding. She uncorked the vial, poured the memory into the rune-encased bowl and then stuck her finger into the silvery liquid, vanishing into the bowl.

Dumbledore sat back and finished his tea while his former student viewed the memory. He had always liked Mafalda. She was nervous and followed the rules blindly most of the time, but she was fair. Her main weakness was that she had a tendency to follow orders from a superior regardless of the morality of the order or the potential consequences of it.

After a few moments, the Commander-In-Chief re-emerged from the Pensieve with a frown on her face.

"This had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets business that happened at Hogwarts, doesn't it?" Mafalda asked shrewdly.

"Dobby was bound to the family that I suspect was behind the plot." Dumbledore acknowledged, "As you saw, he was determined to protect Mr Potter from his bonded family's machinations, even although his solution was…less than helpful to Mr Potter."

"Yes, I surmised as much." Mafalda was lost in thought, before she returned to the present, "Well, this certainly proves Mr Potter wasn't responsible for the Hovering Charm. He in fact tried to stop it from being cast. I'll have a note dropped into his file here absolving him of the charge, another note sent to the DMLE main files clearing him of any wrongdoing and an official notice sent to him immediately."

"Wonderful." Dumbledore beamed at Mafalda happily, "Well, this has been a most productive morning for me. My thanks for the tea, it was most delicious. I should be getting back to Hogwarts now; there are a hundred and one things to sort out before the students return home."

"It must be hectic right now, especially with the clean up from the Chamber." Mafalda sympathised.

"Just so." Dumbledore sighed, "We were very lucky that no one was killed this time around and, thanks to Mr Potter, we will not have to worry about it ever happening again."

With that, Dumbledore strode out of the office with a casual wave to a rather perplexed Mafalda Hopkirk.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Timeskip - Last Day of Term**

_Great Hall, Hogwarts_

Harry walked into the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione in tow. As was the norm, his two best friends were arguing about something, this time about Ron's bad habit of saying 'Bloody Hell!' whenever something happened that took him off guard.

("Hermione, when I'm surprised, I just say Bloody Hell. What in Merlin's name is wrong with that?"

"It's impolite, that's what it is! Your mother would _Scourgify_ your mouth out if she knew you said that so much, Ronald."

"Don't call me Ronald!")

The last week of term had been very restful, what with the exams being cancelled as a school treat. They still had classes, but it was far easier just to review their work rather than furiously practice and revise for exams. DADA was a free period because the teacher (read: idiotic teacher impersonator) was absent, which most took to use as a relaxing period.

He, on the other hand, had used the recent free periods to do spell research, teach Ginny the First Year spells she should have learned in DADA, as well as a few extra ones to be safe. He had also used the time to read his statement from Gringotts, which proved…illuminating.

If the statement on his various Vaults were to be believed, he was as rich as Midas, or rather, he _would_ _be_ upon his majority. Discounting Vault 687, his school Trust Vault, he had _seven_ Vaults. One had formerly belonged to his mother, Lily Evans, one was the Main Potter Vault, one was the Potter Heirloom and Artefacts Vault and one had been his Father's personal Vault. The remaining three Vaults, and their contents, had apparently been left to him in their wills by three very grateful people after his defeat of Voldemort.

In addition, he had discovered that he owned shares in several companies that were spread across the board, from Gladrags Wizardwear Group Limited to Zonkos Joke Shop.

'_Definitely have to owl Rockclaw with a list of recommendations on what to do with some of these stocks and investments._' Harry thought idly as he made his friends stop arguing and sit down.

"The Slytherins looks dead sour over there." Ron muttered to Harry in an undertone. It was true. Several members of the House of Cunning were giving the red and gold banners hanging from the ceiling, indicating a Gryffindor victory in the House Cup, a very sour and jaded look.

Notably, Draco Malfoy was glaring at the banners with such distaste that Harry was mildly surprised that the banners didn't spontaneously combust.

"Not really a surprise." Harry replied just as quietly so only Ron and Hermione could hear him, "Mine and Ron's four hundred points meant that Slytherin got left in the dust. Didn't really stand a chance, if you consider they were in second place behind us to begin with. Add in four hundred points and that's all she wrote."

"That's all who wrote?" Ron asked.

"It's a muggle expression." Hermione said with a sigh, "What Harry means that Slytherin never stood a chance once you got awarded those points."

"Oh. Why didn't he just say so then?" Ron asked, slightly bemused.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a shared look of mingled exasperation and fondness for Ron, but before they could reply, Professor Dumbledore stood up and raised his hands in a gesture for silence.

"Silence please." he said with that grandfatherly twinkle alight in his eyes, "Well now, here we are at the end of another year. And what a year it has been. Let us have a round of applause for Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout, whose Mandrake Restoration Draught was so successfully administered to all of the victims of petrifaction."

A rousing cheer erupted from three of the four tables, with polite applause from about a third of the last table. Three guesses which tables did what.

Pomona Sprout and Poppy Pomfrey blushed at the attention given to them. Herbology and Healing were rarely in the limelight, taking the back seat to the flashier branches of magic like Charms, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, so the two women were unused to being cheered like champions.

Once the applause died down, Dumbledore continued, "The events of this year have been stressful and traumatic for us all, none more so than those who were petrified, as well as those who are close to them. Anyone who wishes to have a referral to see a councillor, please see your Head of House after the feast. With that, let the Leaving Feast begin!"

Once the plates filled up with the usual delicious food served by Hogwarts, Ron eagerly began his usual Welcoming/Leaving Feast occupation of trying to empty the kitchens of all food and drink single-handedly.

Hermione went 'tsked' under her breath as she ate in a far more sedate and dignified manner than her redheaded friend did. Harry smiled at the exact opposite attitudes to eating that his friends showed as he tucked in himself.

After the feast, they took the carriages down to the Hogwarts Express, the scarlet engine gleaming in the sunlight. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the Weasley twins claimed a compartment to themselves and enjoyed the last (legal) time they would be allowed to use magic until the next term.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Ginny fired a scarlet jet of light at Hermione, disarming her.

"Ginny, where the bloody hell did you learn the Disarming Charm?" Ron asked in amazement.

"Harry taught me it." Ginny said with a mild blush, "He's a really good teacher, you know?"

"Ah, Ickle Harrykins-" one twin said.

"-your talents just seem to keep growing." the other twin said, "Wiping teacher's memories-"

"-hexing that git Malfoy-"

"-slaying Basilisks-"

"-saving damsels in distress-"

"-and now teaching our dear little sister what that ponce Lockhart should have been teaching her." concluded a twin that Harry was reasonably certain was Fred, "What _will_ you do for an encore?"

"Merlin knows." Harry said, "But don't look now - we seem to have some bad faith approaching us."

While the Weasley's looked mildly confused, Hermione cottoned on, drawing her wand surreptitiously. Right after that, the compartment door slammed open, revealing a thoroughly pissed off Malfoy, flanked by his trolls, pardon me, _friends_, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Go away Malfoy." Harry said without skipping a beat, "I don't feel like hexing you unconscious right now, so if you don't get lost, I'll let my friends handle you and your boyfriends."

Malfoy turned red in either rage or humiliation at both the dismissal and the insinuation that he was homosexual.

"I am _not_ _gay_, Potter!" Malfoy snarled, "How _dare_ you accuse me of such shameful and dishonourable practices!"

"Homophobic Malfoy?" Hermione said with a raised eyebrow, "How predictable."

"Shut up, Mudblood!" Draco snapped angrily at Hermione.

"_Mucus ad Nauseum Maxima!_" two voices snapped out loudly, rocking Malfoy back with a pair of sickly green jets of light from both Harry and Ginny's wands.

"ACHOOO!" Malfoy sneezed a gallon of snot all over Crabbe, while Goyle tried to draw his wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Hermione cried, disarming the slow Slytherin and then followed up with "_Incarcerous!_", wrapping Goyle up like a mummy in ropes, the large boy overbalancing onto the floor with a loud thud.

"I'll ged you for dis, Podder!" Malfoy snarled thickly through his newly acquired severe cold, "And your little drollop do!"

Harry's face froze into a set expression of anger before he snarled, "_Melofors Magnus!_"

An orange jet of light struck Malfoy, who found his head encased in a very, very large pumpkin that had a jack-o'-lantern face cut into the front, but not enough to allow Malfoy to see out through it. The muffled shrieks coming from within the pumpkin indicated that Malfoy was not taking his new head ornament well. He stumbled out into the corridor, bumping into the walls as he fled.

Crabbe, covered in snot, reached down, grabbed Goyle by the foot and dragged him after Malfoy. Harry walked over and slammed the door shut, then pointed his wand at it and said, "_Colloportus_", sealing the door shut.

"H-Harry…did…did you teach Ginny the more powerful version of the Curse of the Bogies?" Ron asked in a quavering voice, his face slightly pale.

"Yep. She took to the basic version of the spell like a duck to water, so I taught her the more powerful version." Harry replied, "Her version is actually more powerful than mine, so I think she has an affinity for curses, jinxes and hexes with humiliating consequences to the target."

"Ron, don't you dare teach her the Slug Vomiting Charm!" Fred ordered Ron hastily, George nodding rapidly in agreement.

"Spoilsports." Ginny pouted slightly at them.

"Harry, what was that last spell you used?" Hermione asked.

"Hmm? Oh, that was a modified version of the _Melofors_, or Pumpkin Head, Jinx." Harry replied as he retook his seat, "The regular one encases the target's head in a medium sized pumpkin. The powered up version encases the target's head in an extra large variety of pumpkin and adds the carving on the face area. I've actually been looking for an excuse to try that one on Malfoy since I learned the basic version last week."

"Of all the times for my wand to have been blown up!" Ron cursed in disgust, "Bloody Lockhart!"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded.

"If you want Ron, I can pay for a new one." Harry offered, "It was kind of my fault that it got broken in the first place."

Ron flushed. "No mate, it's fine. Mum would throw a fit if I accepted."

This made Harry frown in mild confusion, before he recalled the amount of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts that the Weasley's had had in their Vault prior to the school year, a small pile of Sickles and a single Galleon. Being poor, he knew from experience, made people prideful and touchy about being offered charity.

He would have to think about this for a while, as something in his mind was niggling at him, something he had read recently but couldn't quite recall. He resolved to read his books again to find out what he was forgetting.

Outwardly, he said, "Fine mate, but the offer's still there."

Fred decided to break things up by challenging everyone to a game of Exploding Snap, which was accepted by all. Several games and singed eyebrows later, a thought occurred to Harry.

"Ginny, why did Percy shut you up that time at lunch? He looked very nervous." he asked.

Ginny giggled and grinned. "Percy's got a _girlfriend_." she replied, causing everyone in the compartment to look at her in shock. Fred even dropped a stack of books he had been putting into a trunk on top of his twin's head.

"Percy? As in, our stuck-up, no-nonsense, 'Rules-mean-more-to-me-than-life-itself' elder brother?" George asked incredulously.

"Yup." Ginny replied, clearly relishing the chance to one-up her brothers by telling them something they didn't know, "She's that Ravenclaw Prefect, Penelope Clearwater. That's who he was writing to all summer, who he probably met in Diagon Ally when we were getting our school things and who he's been meeting all over the castle in secret. I walked in on them snogging in an empty classroom one day. That's why he was so upset when she was attacked."

Fred and George simultaneously smacked each other on the back of their heads and started bemoaning the possible pranking opportunities that had been missed that school year.

"You won't tease him, will you?" Ginny asked anxiously.

The twins assured her that they wouldn't, but the expressions of evil planning they had on their faces while they did so made it the most unconvincing spectacle the rest of the compartment had ever seen.

Far too soon for Harry's liking, the train stopped at Platform 9 ¾. Harry, having changed into his usual cast-offs from Dudley, pulled out two pieces of parchment with a series of numbers on them.

"This is called a telephone number." he informed Ron as he gave one to him and Hermione, "I talked your dad through using one last summer, so he should know how to use one. If he can't remember, owl me and I'll send a step-by-step guide. I do _not_ only want to have only the Dursley's to speak to this summer."

"You'll be going to the Ministry for Hagrid's acquittal though." Hermione pointed out as she tucked the parchment into her jean's pocket.

"Not _quite_ the same as talking to my best friends, 'Mione." Harry replied wryly, "That will be an interrogation under Veritaserum, meaning people will be talking _at_ me, rather than _with_ me."

Hermione blushed, but continued, "I'll let you know if I find a way out of your…problem…for you."

"Hermione, just give up on that already." Ron said in exasperation. She had told the both of them about the Founder's Amendment to the B.L.C.A. last week and Ron had been trying to reason with her ever since, "Merlin was the most brilliant wizard to live after the Founders. There is no way he left a loophole that could be exploited so easily."

"I am _not_ going to surrender to an archaic and disgusting law like this one Ron!" Hermione snapped, "It utterly boggles the mind that no one has done anything about it before now!"

"It utterly _what_?" Ron asked in confusion as they headed towards the gate back to the Muggle part of Kings Cross

"She's baffled as to why no one has done anything about it before." Harry translated for him.

"Oh. Why didn't she just say that then?" the redhead asked.

"Because I have a large vocabulary, Ronald." Hermione sniffed.

"Don't call me Ronald!" Ron shot back, "And mate, how the hell do you know what Hermione was talking about?"

"No friends in Primary School." Harry shrugged, "Dudley kept anyone and everyone away from me, so I spent most of my breaks and lunchtimes either running away from Dudley's gang or sitting reading. I was really bored one day, so I read a dictionary."

Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy for Harry, as her Pre-Hogwarts school life was frighteningly similar to that, except that it had been her own intellect that kept most people away from her and drawn bullies to her.

She put a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze as a show of support, making Harry smile back at her.

"Anyway Harry," Hermione decided a subject change was in order, "I expect your Aunt and Uncle will be proud of you, won't they?"

Harry snorted. "After all the times I could have died this year and somehow managed to wriggle my way out of it? Are you mad? They'll be furious and disappointed, _that's_ what they'll be…"

Just then, the guard waved them through the gate, so they walked back into the Muggle world. The first person they saw was Mrs Weasley fussing over Ginny, while Fred, George and Percy watched in amusement from the sidelines.

"Harry dear!" Molly called as she spotted him, swiftly giving him one of her patented hugs, "How are you? You really should eat more, dear. You're all skin and bones!"

"A regular scrawny git he is." Ron nodded in agreement, earning him a glare from said 'scrawny git'.

"Hermione, you look lovely." Mrs Weasley turned her attention to the final member of the trio, "Have you fully recovered from your…illness?"

She was speaking circumspectly in the station full of Muggles, as well as Ginny being nearby. Hermione smiled back at the Weasley Matriarch.

"I'm fine, Mrs Weasley. A complete recovery." she replied, slightly touched that Molly had asked after her, "Oh! There's my parents, I'd better go. Remember and owl me you two!"

"Yes ma'am!" Harry mock saluted her as she ran over to her parents, who had looked on in amusement as their daughter interacted with her friends.

"Uh-oh, Harry. Don't look now, but you're in trouble." Ron said, nodding at the red-faced Vernon Dursley who stood impatiently waiting for Harry.

"Guess I'd better go." Harry muttered, withdrawing slightly into himself and moving towards his uncle with his trolley. Vernon snorted and turned around, walking away at a brisk pace that made his distended and obese stomach wobble like a mound of jelly.

Mrs Weasley looked at his retreating back and frowned. "I certainly hope those Muggles take care of him. The poor dear always looked worse for wear after getting away from them last summer."

"Harry got Dumbledore to go over and give them a talking to." Ron said with a wicked grin. He felt absolutely no sympathy to people who would willingly starve his best mate and hoped those awful Muggles got transfigured into cockroaches or something.

"Did he?" Molly was surprised, "Well, good for him. I hope they paid attention, otherwise I'll be sending a Howler to those Muggles, you see if I don't."

The Weasley children shivered, Ron, Fred and George especially. A Howler was one of the worst things a Hogwarts student could receive, an audible letter of someone -usually a parent- shouting at the top of their voice at someone, magically magnified to a hundred times their normal volume.

"Well, we'd best be going. Arthur has an announcement to make, although I'm not sure what." Molly said as she began to chivvy her bevy of children towards the station exit.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**The Next Day…**

_Number 4 Privet Drive_

Harry was in mild shock. He had been expecting to be bellowed at for fleeing with the Weasley's last summer, possibly even confined to his room for a while.

Instead, Uncle Vernon and Dudley seemed to be bending all of their (limited) brainpower into finding ways to stay as far away from him as was physically possible, ignoring him unless it was at the table and even then it was strictly things like 'pass the butter'.

Shockingly, Aunt Petunia was making a significant effort to be pleasant, or at least bearable, to Harry. She had shown him the newly transformed bedroom and explained that it was all magically created, or as she called it, 'made out of nothing'.

Hedwig was allowed out of her cage as long as Harry kept her indoors during the day and only sent letters at night, which delighted both Harry and his beautiful Snowy owl, who hated the cage with a passion.

All in all, life in Privet Drive was at an all time high compared to the first eleven-odd years Harry had been residing there, which made Harry make a mental note not to make Dumbledore irritated with him. If he could make the ever intractable and stubborn Dursley's treat him with something approaching decency, there was no telling what could be done to Harry if Dumbledore felt the need to take issue with him over something.

"Well Hedwig," Harry muttered to his pet and friend as he gently stroked her feathers, "Looks like life here is promoted from pure Hell to just Purgatory."

It was true. No matter how the Dursley's treated him, Harry loved the Magical World too much to truly feel at home in the middle of Muggle suburbia. The Burrow, home of the Weasley's, felt far much more like home to him than Number 4 did. He **lived** at the Weasley's, whereas he merely _existed_ at Number 4, so Purgatory was an apt synonym for how he lived here.

Harry crossed over to his trunk and pulled out one of the books Dumbledore had given him, '_Who rule's the Roost? The Duties of a Head of House_', and began flicking through it, hoping something would jar his memory in it.

He turned to the chapter entitled '_Life Debts: Honour without Rest_' and grinned. He had found it!

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Next Chapter: Hermione's Trials**

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	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: hello and here is the new chapter!**

**Some people have asked why Merlin supposedly lived after the founders, when he was supposed to have lived before them. I took the fact that he attended Hogwarts from the HP Wikia. Please address you concerns to that page.**

**I have a poll up to determine whether Sirius lives or dies in my story. I have plans for both choices, but I leave the direction of the story to all of you. The poll ends on 15 November, so get cracking.**

**As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

"Harry" -Speech

'_Ginny_' -Thoughts

/Bill\ -Foreign/Non-human Language

**Chapter 5: Hermione's Trials**

_**The Home of Hermione Granger, Pound Hill, Crawley, West Sussex**_

'_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm still in shock, even a week into the holidays. The Dursley's are still treating me decently without so much as a subtle reminder from me. I still have to do chores, but not too many. Aunt Petunia even made Dudley do the dishes the other night; you should have seen the look of sheer disbelief he had at actually being made to do something he didn't want to do!_

_Listen Hermione, about the 'project' you appointed yourself to do over the holidays? The one involving laws? I think you should drop it._

_No, don't scowl at me, listen._

_Ron has a point (that must be a bit of a shock for you!). Merlin made the law and tacked on so many addendums and additions to it that every possible legal loophole and crack would have been foreseen by him. I'm not saying that there is no loophole, but I'd bet ten Galleons that any loophole would be a trap, lading to an early activation of the 'oversight by the Wizengamot' section we decided would be A Bad Thing, so please don't do anything without consulting Professor Dumbledore or me first._

_On a brighter note, don't tell Ron (if he remembers to write you), but I have a surprise lined up for him and his family. It's a bit of a prank, truth be told, especially for Gred and Forge, but overall it ought to be good for the whole family. I won't say what it is, because I want it to be a surprise to everyone but Professor Dumbledore and me. He's given me some advice and is even helping me execute the plan._

_I'm off to finish my least favourite teacher's assigned homework. The last thing I want to do is give Snape a chance to make me scour cauldrons again as soon as I set foot in Hogwarts again._

_Yours, Harry_'

"Sound like Harry's doing better this summer, eh Hedwig?" Hermione remarked to the pure white owl perched on her bedpost, while she sat at her desk chair.

Hedwig barked in agreement, or so it seemed to Hermione.

"If you wait, I'll finish the letter to Ronald I've been writing and send it along with the letter you have from Harry to him." she continued.

The Snowy owl hooted agreeably.

The bush haired girl opened a drawer and, after fishing inside it for a moment, pulled a piece of parchment from it and laid it on the desk. Scribbling quickly but neatly in her tiny handwriting, she finished the letter in under five minutes.

"Here you are, Hedwig." Hermione gave the letter, "If you come back here after delivering those letters to the Burrow, I'll have a letter ready for Harry."

Hedwig hooted again and, with a silent beat of her wings, took flight and swooped out of Hermione's window.

The muggleborn witch sighed and returned her attention to what she had been doing before Hedwig had delivered Harry's letter: working on finding a loophole in the laws to get Harry out of having to marry three witches at once.

Unfortunately, it looked like Harry and Ron had a point in regards to the laws. She had, after a lot of searching, discovered two very rare, very specific, loopholes. The first only applied if Harry was sterile, which would negate the law by necessity.

Hermione knew that Harry did want to have a family someday, so she set that one aside for only if it turned out that it was in fact true. The second one was impossible for Harry, as it disqualified someone from the act (from several acts and laws as a matter of fact) for being an acknowledged Dark Lord.

Sighing in irritation, Hermione reopened the living law book to her bookmarked page and continued scanning each law for something -anything! - that could help her friend. She was determined to help him and no mere _law_ would stand in the way of Hermione Jean Granger when she was on the warpath, by Merlin!

"Hermione!" her mother called, "Could you come down to the kitchen please?"

Hermione growled quietly at the interruption, before calling back, "Alright, Mum."

She carefully placed a bookmark in the law book before closing it and headed down to the kitchen.

Elizabeth Granger was very much a grown up version of her daughter, albeit with black hair rather than brown. She was dressed in a comfortable pair of trousers and a peach t-shirt as she stood at the counter pouring herself a cup of herbal tea.

Lindsay Granger was a surprisingly big man for his chosen profession of a dentist. He dwarfed the chair he sat in, although not nearly as much as a certain Hogwarts Gamekeeper would have. His blue eyes were open and honest, with crinkles on his face that indicated he laughed more than he frowned. He was nervously tousling his short brown hair as he stared into his own cup of tea.

"Have a seat, sweetheart." he told his daughter in a surprisingly light voice from a man of his size.

Alarm bells started ringing in Hermione's head as she slowly sat at the kitchen table. Her alarm increased dramatically as her mother sat next to her father, presenting the classic 'United Front' tactic that intimated to her that her parents were acting as one in whatever they had decided to talk to her about.

"Honey…I don't know how to say this, but…" her mother began.

"We would like to withdraw you from Hogwarts." Lindsay blurted out.

"WHAT!?" Hermione half-shrieked.

"Hermione, please listen to us before you start protesting!" Elizabeth said firmly. Now that the cat was out of the bag, she seemed to be on more solid ground.

With a great deal of difficulty, Hermione forced her mind out of the wild loop it had been stuck in and exerted control over her emotions, which had been thrown into a wild tumult by her father's words.

"Go on." she said in a level voice that dripped with ice, letting her parents know _exactly_ what she thought of this idea.

"Sweetie, it's too dangerous for you there." her father fired the first offensive of their argument, "You were almost killed by a…_troll_…in your first year and _this_ year you were petrified for almost a month!"

Her mother smoothly picked up the argument from there. "We've been looking at other schools, other places you could learn magic. The school called Durmstrang is out because it doesn't allow Muggleborns to attend, but there is still the Beauxbatons Academy for Magic in France, as well as the Salem Academy in America."

"I see you have done your research…somehow." Hermione said with a frown, "Mum, Dad, while the danger at Hogwarts is greater, so is my ability to defend myself and the ability to heal and mend injuries are correspondingly greater."

"It still shouldn't happen!" Elizabeth said sharply, "You could have _died_!"

"Is that everything?" the witch asked her parents calmly. Seeing them nod cautiously, she then drew in a breath and began her counter argument.

"OK, Firstly, the troll was a freak incident." she told them, "In all of the one thousand years that Hogwarts has stood, the only time trolls have ever entered the school was in the very beginning, to act as security guards, as the more intelligent ones are commonly trained for that purpose. Other than that sole exception, the troll in my first year was an aberration, which won't happen again."

"Sweetie, how can you be so certain?" Lindsay asked gently, "If one could wander in once, another could wander in again."

"Professor Dumbledore strengthened the Anti-Dark Creature wards around the castle." Hermione replied, "Professor McGonagall told me so after Transfiguration one day."

"Oh…" Lindsay looked at his wife for a moment, communicating without words.

"What about the petrifaction incident this year?" Elizabeth pointed out, "The wards didn't seem to stop whatever it was form getting in and petrifying you."

"The wards can only prevent something from coming in." Hermione replied, "If it was already inside the school, the wards would be useless."

"So this…whatever it was…was _already_ inside the school?!" Elizabeth growled.

Hermione sighed before she gave her parents a brief history lesson on Salazar Slytherin, the Chamber of Secrets and the monstrous Basilisk that had dwelled within it.

"A ruddy great snake with a literal look that can kill and poisonous fangs that can melt through almost anything. Right." Lindsay said with forced calm, "You are not setting foot into that school again."

"It's dead, Dad!" Hermione protested, "Harry killed it!"

"Your friend Harry?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief, "The small boy with glasses? Hermione, that's impossible."

"It isn't!" Hermione shot back, "A Phoenix gouged its eyes out and then he killed it with the Sword of Gryffindor!"

"A…A _Phoenix_? They exist?" Lindsay asked in disbelief. His favourite book as a child had been _The Phoenix and the Carpet_, by Edith Nesbit. He still had trouble wrapping his head around the fact that most, if not all, the creatures he had read about as a child were actually real.

"Yes, Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's bonded Phoenix." Hermione waved her hand impatiently, "They can travel using flames, carry many times their own bodyweight and their tears have healing properties if freely given. Anyway, the _point_ is that the Basilisk is dead and, as it takes a very specific and illegal process to create them, there are no offspring to worry about."

Elizabeth Granger prided herself on being a very level-headed woman who kept an open mind about things -which had been a good thing when Minerva McGonagall had turned up on their doorstep telling them that Hermione was a witch- but this story that Hermione was weaving was moving far past credulity and into the realm of fantasy stories that children read.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but for all you know, Harry was just telling a tale to comfort you." she said soothingly, "I find it impossible to believe that a young boy could have had the sheer courage to fight a sixty foot long snake, especially one with such powerful abilities."

"Harry IS that brave." Hermione said softly, "He went into the Chamber to rescue Ginny Weasley, who had been kidnapped by the person behind the attacks. I'd bet he never even thought twice after he made his decision."

Unbeknownst to her, a dash of pink made its way onto her cheeks, which was seen by the sharp eyes of her mother.

"So my little girl has a crush? How adorable!" she said with a smile, making Lindsay choke on his tea and Hermione flush a brilliant red.

"Wh-what are you _saying_ mum?!" she half-shrieked.

"That you have a crush on Harry." Elizabeth replied glibly, "After him saving your life last year, I suppose a crush was inevitable…"

"I do NOT have a crush on Harry!" Hermione insisted, "We're best friends!"

"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much." Elizabeth teased, "Isn't Harry mainly why you don't want to leave Hogwarts?"

"Because he and Ron are my first _friends_!" Hermione said exasperatedly, her face still red, "Besides, Harry has-"

She cut herself off, realising that she was about to blurt out her friends secret.

"'Harry has'… what, exactly?" Lindsay growled, going into 'protective father' mode.

"He has his own problems with girls." Hermione said softly, "I can't tell you anymore than that without Professor Dumbledore's permission."

The two adults exchanged mystified looks at this, but returned to the original subject.

"Hermione, are you certain that the Basilisk is dead?" her father asked her.

"You can ask Professor Dumbledore." Hermione said, "Harry's owl, Hedwig, should be returning in the next few days so I can send a letter to Harry. I'll ask her to take a letter to Professor Dumbledore before she goes back to Surrey."

"_Ask_ her?" Elizabeth asked with a raised eyebrow, "You talk like she's intelligent enough to understand you."

"Wizarding Post Owls are a different breed apart from their mundane counterparts." Hermione said, going into lecture-mode, "They are bred for intelligence and loyalty. In addition, they possess magic that greatly extends their lifespan, as well as giving them the ability to find any person to whom they might be required to deliver letters to. Hedwig is a prime example as her loyalty to Harry is very high and has never failed to deliver a letter."

Lindsay shook his head in amusement. "You look and sound exactly like your mother did at your age; like you've just swallowed the latest edition of the _Encyclopaedia Britannia_."

"Lindsay!" Her mother said in mock-anger, "I do _not_ sound like that. I sound like I've swallowed the _next_ edition!"

As her father laughed at her mother's joke, Hermione frowned. This was not good. She really didn't want to leave Hogwarts and her friends. She was at a place where she wasn't alone and ostracised for her intelligence.

She would not lose her place.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Timeskip - Two Days Later**

**Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts**

Albus Dumbledore frowned down at the letter in his hand he had just received from Hermione Granger. It was obvious that her parents were reaching the limit of their patience with their daughter being put in danger every year, which was completely understandable.

The main point though was that Hermione Granger was the strongest witch in her year, as well as being the most talented witch the school had seen since Lily Potter (nee Evens) had graduated.

"Albus?" Whatever is the matter?"

Dumbledore looked up to see Minerva looking at him in concern. He had been in the middle of discussing the next year's prefect selections for Gryffindor with her when Hedwig had swooped in, delivered a letter to him before swooping out again in a flash of white feathers.

"It would seem that Miss Granger's parents wish to withdraw her from Hogwarts." he replied mildly, "I can see their point, but I sincerely doubt that Miss Granger wishes to withdraw."

"You don't think they'd actually try it, do you Albus?" McGonagall said worriedly, "You know what will happen if they try and interfere in Miss Granger's academic choices…"

"Quite." Albus agreed. That was a can of worms best left unopened, but what to do? "I believe I shall pay the Granger family a visit next week. They need to be made aware of the full ramifications of what they are attempting to do. Also, I shall be taking Harry along so they can see the truth in his words themselves."

"Why next week Albus?" Minerva asked, worried for one of her favourite pupils, "Why not now?"

Dumbledore considered his deputy over his half-moon glasses for a moment before replying, "Two weeks is the length of time it takes for the blood wards around Privet Drive to be recharged for a year. It has already been one week, therefore next week Harry can freely move about without the wards collapsing. I would like it if you could keep this quiet, Minerva."

"Of course, Albus." the Transfiguration teacher nodded firmly.

"Now then, I had better write a reply to Miss Granger's letter." Dumbledore took out a sheaf of parchment and his favourite eagle-feather quill and proceeded to do just that, before sending Fawkes off with the letter.

"Next week is going to be interesting for certain." he remarked, "I don't think that any Muggleborn has had problems with their parents since Alice O'Malley's parents tried to send her to the Ysgol o Hud down in Wales back in '56."

"Aye, and whit a nightmare _that_ was!" agreed McGonagall with an eye roll, "My first year as a teacher and I had to mediate between an angry Muggleborn who wanted to stay with her friends and parents who equated the size of the school with its importance, the smaller the better. The pair of numpties thought that _Hogwarts_ was the equivalent of a _public school! _The sheer amount of time it took to convince them it was in fact the reverse was mind-numbing!"

Albus could tell that Minerva was still irritated by the stupidity of Mr and Mrs O'Malley even now, thirty-seven years after the fact. Her Scots brogue was breaking through her usual iron control, which was a clear sign of irritation. She never had had much patience for those who sought the veneer of exclusivity and sophistication.

"Happily, the Granger's sole reason for wishing to withdraw their daughter is that she had been in danger here for the entirety of her school career." Dumbledore informed his Deputy, "Regardless of the fact that she willingly walked into some of those situations, knowing what they were, the main thrust of their argument, from what Miss Granger has written, is that those dangers should never have been near her in the first place, which is a perfectly valid point."

"True enough, but asking for perfect safety is a bit much, surely." huffed McGonagall, "We are far removed from The Troubles here. The children are safe here from _that_ sort of thing."

"True, but combine not being able to see their daughter for the vast majority of the year with the boarding school in question being a magical school and you get very worried parents." Dumbledore replied, "They might be relieved that mundane Muggle incidents are unlikely to happen at Hogwarts, but that just makes any Magical incidents of a far higher importance. Thus, when their daughter was put in danger for two years in a row, they panicked."

"Should I come along, Albus?" McGonagall asked, "I am Miss Granger's Head of House, plus I did introduce them to the Magical World, so I'd be a known quality."

"Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea Minerva." Dumbledore agreed, "A week today then."

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Timeskip - One Week Later**

**Midday**

**Number 4, Privet Drive**

The sound of the doorbell ringing brought Harry out of his focus on his Transfiguration homework. From what his Aunt and Uncle had said, they were not expecting anybody today. Dudley was out with his gang, terrorising the area as usual and he had a key, so it couldn't be him.

"Harry! Your…Headmaster…is here to see you!" the sharp tones of Aunt Petunia's voice echoed up the stairs.

"What?" Harry muttered in disbelief. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, and then grabbed his wand from the bedside table. Shoving it in his pocket, he hurried down the stairs to see a rather unusual sight.

Albus Dumbledore stood in the hall, wearing a muggle suit that was an eye-watering shade of lilac. To his side stood Minerva McGonagall in a very proper outfit consisting of a black ankle-length skirt, white shirt and emerald green blouse.

Aunt Petunia looked up at Harry and nodded once before she turned and headed back to the kitchen.

"Professor Dumbledore? Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked is surprise, a little mild shock mixed in as well. He never expected to see them both here, in Privet Drive.

"Ah Harry." Dumbledore beamed at him, "You are doing well, I trust?"

"Y-Yes sir." Harry replied on autopilot, "I was just in the middle of my Transfiguration homework. Err…what can I do for you?"

"A situation has come up that requires all three of us to resolve, I fear." Dumbledore replied, "Might we speak in your room?"

"Sure." Harry led the two professors up the stairs and into his room, where they conjured chairs to sit on while he sat on the desk chair.

"As I said downstairs, a situation has come up." Dumbledore began, "It involves your friend, Miss Granger."

"Is Hermione alright?" Harry asked in concern.

"Not to be worried, dear boy, she is fine." Dumbledore assured him, "She is, however, at loggerheads with her parents at the moment."

"_Hermione_ is?!" Harry was incredulous. His best female friend, who practically worshiped rules and authority figures, was having a fight with her parents? "About what?"

"Her parents wish to withdraw her from Hogwarts, Mister Potter." Professor McGonagall informed him.

"_What?!_" Harry yelped as he was rocked back on his metaphorical heels, "Why?"

"They feel that she is not safe in Hogwarts and its environs." she answered, noting the guilty look that flashed across Harry's face and decided to cut that off at the knees sharpish, "No, they do not blame you, Mister Potter, so kindly do not be guilty. Almost all of the situations Miss Granger has been in has been of either her own choosing or from events beyond anybody's control."

Harry did relax slightly at the reassurance, but still looked worried.

"Miss Granger sent me a letter using Hedwig last week and, from what she said in it -and reading between the lines- it seems that Mr and Mrs Granger disbelieve your tale of slaying the Basilisk, citing that a boy of your age couldn't possibly have slain it." Dumbledore adroitly continued the conversation, "What I hope to do is to prove to them that your tale is true."

"How?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed.

"Were the Grangers Magical, I would use my Pensieve, but alas, they are not, so the Pensieve will not work for them." Dumbledore explained, "This means we must convince them that you speak the truth beyond all doubt."

The realisation hit Harry like a thunderbolt. "Veritaserum."

"Correct." the Headmaster nodded. "Ordinarily, I would need an Auror present in order to use such a powerful truth drug, but as I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, as well as an Honorary Master Auror, such a requirement is waived so long as you agree to take it in front of a legitimate witness, such as Professor McGonagall here."

"Albus!" Professor McGonagall looked shocked, "Ye wouldnae dae sik a thing, would ye?!"

"As a last resort only, I assure you Minerva." Dumbledore replied, "Harry?"

He sat and though for a few seconds before nodding. "If it'll help Hermione, I'll do it." he said firmly, and then grinned. "It'll be good practice for Hagrid's trial in a couple of weeks."

"Very true." Dumbledore chuckled before coming serious once again. "I do not wish to have to resort to that, so we will fight on the Granger's battlefield first, one of logic and reason, in order to persuade them not to follow the course they are on. Tell me, how much of the Law Book did you read before giving it to Miss Granger?"

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Timeskip - Five Minutes Later**

**Pound Hill Apparition Point**

With a CRACK, three people appeared from thin air in the narrow alleyway, the smallest one landing in a sprawled heap on the ground.

"I foresee your dislike of magical transportation going up by one." Dumbledore remarked cheerfully as Harry staggered to his feet.

"Are _all_ magical transportation methods as awkward and uncomfortable as Floo Travel and Apparition?" Harry asked as he dusted himself off, nodding his thanks as Professor McGonagall cleaned his clothes with an incantationless _Scourgify_.

"Regrettably, that would appear to be the case, save for broomstick flight." Dumbledore replied, "Now then, Miss Granger's house should be nearby. Minerva, if you would?"

McGonagall nodded and led the other two on a brisk walk across the housing estates and neighbourhoods of the district until she stopped outside a two-story house that was neat, without the obsessive-compulsive feel that Privet Drive had about it.

Dumbledore took over then, striding towards the front door with Harry and McGonagall trailing behind him and rang the doorbell. After a moment, the door was opened to reveal an older, black-haired Hermione.

"Yes?" she asked, wincing slightly at the colour Dumbledore's suit.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Ganger." Dumbledore said pleasantly, "I am Albus Dumbledore and I believe you already know Minerva McGonagall and Harry Potter."

Mrs Granger took in the trio on her doorstep and raised an eyebrow. "I see. You had all better come in then." she said at last and fully opened the door.

She directed them into the living room before calling for Hermione and her husband.

"Harry!" was all the warning the raven-haired boy had as a brown bushy haired missile slammed into him after pausing for a moment at the door.

"Hey Hermione." he replied as he returned her hug before stepping back and looking at her. She wore a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a light blouse and her wand stuck out of a pocket.

"Harry, what are you doing here? Are you alright? Is something wrong?" Hermione asked rapidly looking him up and down anxiously.

"Am I not allowed to visit one of my best mates, Hermione?" Harry asked in a faux-hurt voice.

"Of course you are!" Hermione exclaimed, instantly contrite, then she realised he was having her on, earning him a glare and a smack on the shoulder, followed by, "Prat!"

"So this is Harry then?" Mr Granger asked as he came into the living room. He went over and shook Harry's hand firmly, "Lindsay Granger. Thanks for looking after my daughter at school."

"Hermione's helped me far more than I've helped her." Harry disagreed, "But for when I did help her, I just did what anybody else would have done."

"Jumping on the back of a troll is generally not something 'most people' would do." Mr Granger raised an eyebrow in silent query.

"I practiced on my uncle." Harry deadpanned, "He's almost big enough to be a troll."

Lindsay snorted in amusement before looking at his daughter, "You never mentioned his sense of humour, sweetie."

"Daaad!" Hermione groaned in mild embarrassment at being called 'sweetie' in front of her friend.

Obligatory embarrass-his-daughter-in-front-of-her-friend/potential-love-interest deed done, Lindsay walked over and sat on the sofa next to his wife, who had an amused look on her face.

"Now then." Professor Dumbledore said once all were seated. He and Professor McGonagall sat in a pair of conjured armchairs opposite of the elder Grangers, while Hermione and Harry sat on the two chairs at the side of the table that was set between the sofa and the conjured armchairs.

"As we have all taken seats, we can begin." the Headmaster continued, "I believe we all know why we are here."

"Yes." Elizabeth spoke up, her eyes hard, "We want to withdraw Hermione from Hogwarts."

"Ah." Dumbledore said, "Yes. Would you care to list your reasons please?"

He, Professor McGonagall and Harry were then treated to what Hermione told Harry in an undertone was an almost exact replica of their conversation with her, except with more anger.

"I can see where Miss Granger gets her wide vocabulary from." Dumbledore observed once the two muggles had given full vent to their spleen, "Remind me not to make Miss Granger irritated with me once she graduates, Minerva."

"You will anyway, Albus." Minerva replied dryly.

"Indubitably." Dumbledore said philosophically before he returned his attention to the Grangers. "Now those are fairly legitimate points that you have brought up and I shall endeavour to assuage your worries about them, however I am sorry to inform you that you have no say in your daughter's magical education."

A stunned silence filled the living room as all three Grangers sat frozen on their seats in disbelief. Harry was warily eying Lindsay Granger and he also had his hand in one pocket, ready to draw his wand if need be.

"I'm sorry; I could have sworn you just said that we have no say in our daughter's education." Elizabeth said frostily.

"In her _Magical_ education, that is correct." Dumbledore said politely.

"I see." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at Dumbledore before uttering a single word: "Explain."

"When the International Statue of Secrecy was signed, on clause called for all those first generation witches and wizards -Muggleborns- to have their right to a Magical education protected." Professor McGonagall spoke up crisply, "In Magical Britain, this manifested as the Muggleborn Rights Charter, which lists certain rights that are given to all underage Muggleborn children. Chief among them is to have first right of refusal over their choice of school, regardless of the will of their parents."

After a moment, Hermione spoke up cautiously. "So as long as I want to go to Hogwarts, I can?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded.

"You people give control of their education to immature eleven year olds?!" Lindsay said at last, disbelief clear in his voice.

"It very rarely comes up, Mr Granger." Minerva said sternly, "In matter of fact, the education protection portion of the Charter has only ever been activated -in Britain at least- _ten times _since the Statute began to be enforced in 1692."

"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked suspiciously.

"A number of reasons." Dumbledore said as he popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and enjoyed the bittersweet taste of his favourite sweet, "First, Hogwarts is among the top three schools in Europe, matched only by Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, which would be roughly equated in the Muggle world as a person graduating from Oxford University after having attended Eton.

Secondly, despite your complaints about security, Hogwarts had been around for a thousand years and has many layers of complex and intricate wards protecting the school and its inhabitants. Magic is a truly wonderful thing and thanks to the wards, injuries from dark creatures attempting to infiltrate the school tapered off to almost nothing within a year of them going up."

"So how did that troll get in then?" Lindsay asked suspiciously.

"Deliberate sabotage." Dumbledore replied, "A dark curse opened a hole in the wards, allowing the beast to be drawn in. It was originally in the dungeons, but wandered out and made it to the ground floor ladies room, where your daughter was. The rest, as they say, is history."

"From what Hermione has said, all of these ward things of yours are controlled by you." Elizabeth said warily, "How didn't you notice this hole in them?"

"I am not permanently linked into the wards, Mr Granger." Dumbledore explained, "I only have unlimited access in the Headmasters Office. In a real emergency, I can remotely access them, but it takes near total focus to do so and is immensely draining as well. I regularly check the wards before breakfast, lunch and dinner before making my way down to the Great Hall. The person responsible waited for me to leave my office before enacting his plan."

"And might I enquire who this person was and what his punishment was when you caught him?" Lindsay asked coolly.

"He was Professor Quirinus Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry said softly, "And I killed him."

The two adult Grangers looked at Harry in shock. Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked him on the shoulder again.

"Harry, stop being so dramatic. You didn't kill him; the strain of being _possessed_ killed him." Hermione scolded her friend.

"If we were at school Miss Granger, I would be awarding points for excellent research and loyalty to your friend." Dumbledore said with a smile, "It is true that Quirrell was possessed by a dark spirit, which forced him to obey its orders. It is also true that Harry stopped the possessed Quirrell from stealing a very powerful artefact. When I arrived to find the two of them struggling, the dark spirit abandoned Quirrell, leaving his body to die from both the strain of the possession and the shock of being released from the control of the spirit."

"A 'dark spirit'?" Elizabeth asked sceptically.

"Indeed. Ghosts are quite common in magically rich areas." Dumbledore replied, "We even have a poltergeist at Hogwarts. Sadly, benign spirits are not the only ones in existence and I'm afraid there are no wards in existence that can distinguish a dark spirit from a regular poltergeist or ghost."

"So if this happens again, you won't be able to tell?" Lindsay asked, homing in on what he perceived as a weakness.

"Oh no." Dumbledore replied with a small smile, "While different types of spirits cannot be distinguished from one another, there is a ward that I have now placed on the castle which prevents anybody from entering if he or she is possessed by an evil spirit."

Hermione smiled to herself as she saw her parents wilt slightly. Their first line of argument was defeated. She and Harry exchanged a look of hope.

"Fine then." Lindsay growled, "What about whatever it is that was petrifying students? What have you done about the _Basilisk_ then?"

Dumbledore merely blinked in mild surprise. "I believe Miss Granger has already told you the answer to that question. Mr Potter killed it."

"I don't mean any offence Harry, but I doubt that you did that." Elizabeth said to Harry, "No twelve year old boy could face what Hermione described."

"I am not a liar, Mrs Granger." Harry replied coolly, staring at her with his intense green eyes, "It almost killed me, but I did kill the Basilisk and eliminate the Dark Artefact that had caused the entire problem."

"Harry! You never told me you almost _died_!" Hermione glared at her friend in a mixture of anger and fear. Harry shrank back from the intensity in her gaze, much to the amusement of the adults.

"Hermione, Fawkes healed me up almost right away!" Harry said weakly, "I'm alright, so I didn't want to worry you with an unnecessary detail."

"'Unnecessary detail'?! Harry, you almost died!" Hermione exclaimed, an odd pain striking her heart at the thought of Harry being dead, "That is a very important detail! Never omit things again when you're telling me things!"

"Yes Hermione." Harry replied obediently.

Hermione sat back with a pleased huff, missing the knowing look that her parents shared, as well as the small smiles that Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall shared.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. "Yes, well, Mr Potter rather bluntly stated the facts. He did in fact slay a Basilisk, being bitten in the arm in the process. My companion, Fawkes, who was summoned to his side earlier by his loyalty to me, cried tears into the wound that cured the venom and healed the wound."

Observing the stubborn looks of disbelief on the faces of the elder Grangers, Dumbledore sighed to himself.

"As you seem to disbelieve myself, your own daughter and Mr Potter, it seems I will have to fall back on something I had rather hoped to avoid using." he said quietly, "Harry, I hereby give you permission to use magic for the purposes of making a magical oath, on my authority as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

Harry nodded and drew his wand from his pocket, holding it up before he spoke. "I, Harry James Potter, do hereby affirm that I am willing to allow Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore to administer the truth potion Veritaserum to me and interrogate me, so long as the questions are solely confined to the subject of my actions in the Chamber of Secrets. So mote it be."

The end of his wand flashed with a white light, signifying that the oath had taken hold. This time Professor McGonagall drew her wand and spoke an oath.

"I, Minerva McGonagall, do swear that Harry James Potter has given permission for the Chief Warlock to interrogate him under the influence of the truth drug Veritaserum, with the condition that the Chief Warlock restricts his questions to do with his actions in the Chamber of Secrets. So mote it be."

Another flash from her wand signalled that her oath had taken hold as well. Swiftly, Dumbledore swore an oath promising that, for this session, he would only ask questions to do with Harry's actions in the Chamber, which was sealed with a single flash of light from _his_ wand.

"Care to fill us in on all the formal oaths and flashes of light, sweetie?" Lindsay asked his daughter.

"They've just sworn Wizards Oaths." Hermione said, her face slightly pale, "If they break their oaths, it will cost them their magic."

"And what is this Veritaserum stuff that's been mentioned?" Elizabeth asked.

"The strongest truth potion in existence." Hermione replied tightly, "With just three drops, the person under its influence can hide nothing from those who would question them."

Elizabeth and Lindsay exchanged alarmed looks. This was…unexpected.

Dumbledore removed a small bottle with a dropper in the lid. The liquid within looked exactly like ordinary tap water, making the elder Grangers look at their daughter with raised eyebrows.

"Veritaserum is the perfect truth potion." Hermione answered their unspoken question, "No taste, no colour, and no smell. That's why misuse of it carries a prison sentence."

"Minerva, if you would?" Dumbledore invited as he held the bottle out to her. McGonagall took the bottle and waved her wand around it in a complicated pattern, making it glow white.

"This is indeed properly brewed Veritaserum, without any taints, poisons or other substances marring it." she affirmed after a moment before handing it back to Dumbledore with a nod.

Very carefully, Dumbledore placed three drops of the liquid in Harry's mouth.

"Now then, try to lie to me Harry." Dumbledore said, "What is your name?"

"N-…." Harry tried to lie, but then fell into a void where he had little control over what he said.

"Harry James Potter." he said in an inflectionless voice that unnerved the Grangers.

"What was the first thing Miss Granger ever said to you?" Dumbledore continued.

"'Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one.'" Harry quoted flatly.

"That boy loses his toad more often than all the other students lose their pets put together." McGonagall remarked to herself.

"I think we can safely say that the Veritaserum has taken effect." Dumbledore remarked, "Now then Harry, please tell us what happened in the Chamber of Secrets from the moment you entered the Chamber proper."

Without a blink, Harry began his narration, telling of an enormous chamber as tall as the Great Hall, filled with serpentine carvings and a large statue of whom he presumed was Salazar Slytherin.

How he had found the cold body of Ginny Weasley at the foot of the statue and his conversation with the memory of Tom Riddle. How he had defied the spectre and thus called Fawkes to him. And how Riddle had responded by summoning the sixty-foot long serpent that had terrorised the school for the entire year.

The description that Harry gave of the battle highlighted how much he noticed, even when he wasn't trying to. The vivid description of the King of Serpents made Hermione go white in fear for her friend. All she remembered was an instant of reflected yellow in the handheld mirror Penelope Clearwater had pulled out after she warned her about the Basilisk.

As he described how he had begged the Sorting Hat for help and it had responded by giving him the Sword of Gryffindor, the looks of confusion on the faces of Mr and Mrs Granger caused Dumbledore to pause Harry and explain to the two Muggles the significance of such a thing happening.

"If a person who wears the Sorting Hat matches the correct criteria, such as courage and bravery in the case of Gryffindor, and the situation demands it, legend has it that it can summon an artefact of the Founder of that House." Dumbledore explained, "Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled the sword from the hat, just as only a true Ravenclaw could pull the fabled Diadem of Ravenclaw from it, a true Hufflepuff could pull the Cup of Hufflepuff and a true Slytherin could pull the Locket of Slytherin."

"But…he was put in Gryffindor. Wouldn't that be enough?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

"Many people are sorted into Gryffindor." Dumbledore replied, "But very few actually live up to the trademarks of their House. Harry, by contrast, is an exemplar of what those in Gryffindor should be; brave, courageous, daring and honourable, yet he also shows traits of the other Houses. He is very loyal and hardworking like a Hufflepuff, highly intelligent like a Ravenclaw and disregards rules that get in his way like a Slytherin, as well as showing more than a little cunning and sneakiness."

After allowing a moment to let that sink in, Dumbledore prompted Harry to begin his recitation again, from where he had stopped.

Harry did as requested. The relatively brief fight with the basilisk sent chills up the spines of all who heard it. The final clash made Professor McGonagall clutch her heart to hear. Tears fell from Hermione's eyes as she heard exactly how painful the venom was, just as a look of sorrow fell upon Dumbledore's face as he heard Harry's description of the room fading into a blur of colour.

As Harry's tale ended with the destruction of the Diary and Riddle, silence fell in the living room. Elizabeth and Lindsay were shocked that a boy, a boy younger even than their daughter, had faced such a monster and risked death to defeat it. Dumbledore's face was drawn and looking every one of his hundred and ten years as he administered Harry the antagonist to Veritaserum.

"Whoa…that was weird." Harry muttered as the truth serum's effect faded from him, "I really didn't want to say quite a few things I just said, but I was helpless to stop myself. That stuff is scary…"

"I would agree. The effect is highly disconcerting." Dumbledore said, "It is one reason I am glad that the potion is the very devil to brew and requires more than a few rare and hard to acquire ingredients that have to be freshly harvested. Most students who take NEWT-level Potions classes can barely make it at the end of their seventh years. Even Tom Riddle found Veritaserum difficult to brew."

Lindsay Granger cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Ah…Harry, my wife and I owe you an apology, it would seem."

Harry shook his head with a wry grin. "It's alright. I have a hard time believing it sometimes, but it did happen. The Basilisk is dead and cannot harm anyone ever again."

"I…see." Elizabeth said slowly, "Professor Dumbledore, when Professor McGonagall told us about Hogwarts, she told us that it was the safest place in Britain, yet for the two years that Hermione has attended your school, she has been in danger of one sort or another. Why is this?"

"That is a hard question to answer." Dumbledore replied, "Part of the problem is, I'm afraid, Miss Granger's propensity to investigate things. Another part is that an old enemy is on the rise: Voldemort."

The aged wizard ignored the small flinches from Hermione and Minerva McGonagall.

"Who?" Lindsay asked blankly.

"He's mentioned in a few of my books under the names, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, The Dark Lord and You-Know-Who." Hermione supplied quietly.

"Oh. But didn't they say he died?" Elizabeth asked with a confused expression on her face.

"His body was destroyed, but his spirit lives on." Dumbledore replied gravely, "It was his wraith that possessed Quirrell and his diary that controlled young Miss Weasley like a puppet. Voldemort was always terrified of death you see. He undertook many Dark, foul rituals in order to attain immortality, only some of which I am aware of. He exists now as a being of smoke and vapour, unable to have physical form without possessing another."

"My god…" Lindsay was in shock, "Can't you find him and destroy him once and for all? Or at the very least contain him?"

"You cannot kill that which has no solid life." Dumbledore replied, "And as he isn't a ghost or poltergeist, none of our ghost containment or repulsion wards will work on him. So again, he cannot be contained, even if we could find his hiding spot in darkest Albania."

"This sound like we should move to America!" Elizabeth muttered, "I've read Hermione's book, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, and if even _half_ of what was written actually happened, I want my daughter out of his reach!"

"I fear that such a move would only delay things for a short time." Dumbledore said quietly, "Miss Granger is well known in Hogwarts as being the brightest and most powerful Muggleborn witch since Harry's mother, Lily. Such a reputation would make Voldemort pursue her, even if she were not friends with Mr Potter here."

"So we're damned no matter what we do, is that it?" Lindsay barked angrily.

"No, quite the opposite. Each hole in Hogwarts Castle's defences that has been exposed by these infiltrations has been plugged and I have been conducting a review of several of the wards that have fallen into disuse and have restored them to their full strength." Dumbledore replied, "Regardless of the incidents in the past, Hogwarts is the next best thing to an impenetrable fortress when I fully activate the wards and even at low strength as they usually are very little gets by them."

"In addition," Professor McGonagall put in, "Albus is the only person that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ever feared. He never dared to attack Hogwarts, even at the height of his power because Albus was Headmaster."

"Minerva." Dumbledore's face was a mix of fond exasperation and mild irritation, "As I have told you a thousand times, Voldemort has powers that I couldn't imagine."

"And as I have told _you_ a thousand times, that is because you are too noble to use them, Albus." Minerva replied primly.

It was obvious that this was an old argument between the two educators, making the others chuckle at the byplay between them.

Once they returned their attention to the Grangers, they waited while the two had a silent conversation with eye contact. Finally, Lindsay heaved a massive sigh.

"It seems that we were...hasty…in wishing to withdraw Hermione." he admitted, "It's just…hard to bear sometimes. She's away in Scotland somewhere and we can't visit or even communicate with her properly. Sending letters via the Post Office takes far longer than a Post _Owl_ for some strange reason."

"It's because the department of the Ministry that monitors such things is a very small and overworked." Dumbledore explained sadly, "The current attitude is 'If they want to talk to a wizard or a witch, then they should communicate like a wizard or witch.'"

"So…they want ordinary Muggle people to buy owls?" Elizabeth asked in confusion, "Doesn't that conflict with the Statute of Secrecy?"

"No, not really." Dumbledore replied, "An addendum to the Muggleborn Rights Charter permit's the family members of a muggleborn witch or wizard to know of and interact with the Wizarding World as long as they are immediate family -aunts, uncles, grandparents and the like."

"I see." Lindsay looked thoughtful, "How much are Post Owls anyway?"

"Hedwig cost me fifteen Galleons." Harry said with a smile.

"Seventy-five pounds?!" the large man gaped in shock.

"Seventy-four pounds and fifty-five pence." Elizabeth corrected.

"The actual price varies depending on what breed of owl you wish for." Dumbledore put in, "Hedwig is a rare Snowy Owl, so her price was higher than the norm. I believe that the most inexpensive owl is a Scops Owl at a mere three Galleons and three sickles."

"That would be because those are the size of tennis balls." Elizabeth remarked dryly, earning her an odd look from her husband, "Remember my Uncle David? He was an avid Ornithologist."

"Ah."

"I believe I might have an amicable resolution to this situation." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily, "As an apology for failing in my primary duty to safeguard your daughter's wellbeing while under my care, I shall purchase for you a suitable Post Owl from Eeylops Owl Emporium, as well as suitable food and a perch. Do you have any preference as to the breed?"

"Err…Dear?" Lindsay deferred to his wife's wider knowledge of avian species.

"A Barn Owl? Do they sell those?" Elizabeth asked.

"Indeed they do." Dumbledore replied, "A very popular choice as they are common in almost every region."

"In which case, we accept your offer, Headmaster." Elizabeth said with a nod.

"Excellent." Dumbledore beamed happily, "I will have the owl delivered to you tomorrow at noon sharp, if that is agreeable with you."

"Certainly. We will be at work, but Hermione will be in." Lindsay replied.

"Very well. We should be leaving then, I am afraid." Dumbledore said with an apologetic look at Harry and Hermione, "Professor McGonagall and I have a meeting to attend at Hogwarts, so we have to be on our way."

"Fair enough." Harry conceded. He stood up and accepted Hermione's hug before heading out the door amidst the goodbyes, Dumbledore and McGonagall following him once they Vanished their conjured chairs.

Hermione smiled brightly. She didn't have to leave Hogwarts. She didn't have to leave her friends. She didn't have to leave _Harry_.

"Glad you don't have to go away from Harry, sweetie?" Lindsay asked with a small smirk as his straight-laced daughter flushed red.

"Oh, why do I put up with you daddy?" Hermione asked as she walked off with her nose in the air.

She headed for her room so she could start looking through the living law book, this time for the Muggleborn Rights Charter. She was kicking herself for not being more thorough in her examination of the law book. If she had done so, she could have put her foot down with her parents and not bothered Professor Dumbledore.

'_Not to mention not have worried Harry!_' Hermione thought in mortification. She could tell that her friend had been concerned for her as he stole occasional looks out of the corner of his eye at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She truly hated worrying him.

'_Today has been great._' Hermione mused as she once more sat ensconced in her room, flicking through the pages of the law book as she searched for the Charter, '_It would have been brilliant if Mum and Dad didn't keep insinuating that I fancy Harry!_'

Feeling the heat in her cheeks indicating a blush, she forced it away with force of will. She slumped slightly as she frowned at the book in front of her. There was no sign of any loopholes that did not have a crippling condition for its use or severe consequence to going through with it, just as Harry had suggested.

Harry had to marry three witches by the time he was twenty-one, two of them Purebloods. He would likely marry another Pureblood, as they seemed to be very cliquish, rarely moving outside of their own social circles, and doubtless, the first one would guide him to her friends.

A sharp pain writhed in her chest at the thought. Hermione blinked an odd amount of ocular fluid from her eyes. They weren't _tears_ of course, just an excess of eye fluid. She must have something in her eye.

Hermione wiped the tear from her face absently as she began to read the Muggleborn Rights Charter, the allure of fresh knowledge pulling her mind away from the heartbreak she denied she had for the boy she denied she cared for.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Roughly The Same Time**

Sirius Black's Cell, Azkaban Prison

The black dog that was Sirius Black stopped whining as the chilly aura extruded by the Dementors faded and then went away completely. The dog cocked its head to the side in puzzlement before realisation dawned in its black eyes.

Crawling out from under the rusty excuse for a bed that he very rarely slept on, Sirius returned to his human form. He was a tall man clad in ragged and filthy prisoner's robes that might once have been brown, but now closely resembled something smoothing a cat had had kittens on. He was unhealthily thin, his eyes sunken into his skull and his face covered in a large amount of matted hair.

Slumping onto the wall, he slid down to the floor and looked out of his cell door as he forced a bored and indifferent look onto his face, awaiting the reason that the foul guards had been removed from outside his cell to arrive.

"….mad, all of 'em Minister." came the voice of the Chief Warden, echoing down the corridor. He was a corpulent bastard who had taken the opportunity to 'put the boot in' on him more than a few times when Sirius had first been thrown into this hellhole. "The Lestrange's, Dolohov, Mulciber…the lot of them scream and jibber more than anything else."

Not true, Sirius knew. They shouted curses indistinctly in their sleep, directed at the Ministry, Peter Pettigrew and Harry, but while they were awake, they rarely said anything loudly, tending to mutter incoherently under their breath.

"Understandable, really." a pompous voice replied, clearly recognisable as Cornelius Oswald Fudge, the sitting Minister for Magic, "I would rather die than be around Dementors all the time. Still, they are getting what they deserve. You didn't mention Black by the way. Why is that?"

"He's dead quiet, Minister. Don't hear a cheep out of him." the Warden replied.

"Odd…" Fudge said slowly, "Have you been keeping the Dementors outside his cell at all times, like you were supposed to?"

"Of course Minister." the Warden replied in surprise, "Night and day, two at all times."

The footsteps were closer now, almost at his cell door. After a moment, Fudge stepped into view, his trademark pinstripe cloak and lime-green bowler hat telling anyone who glanced at him who he was.

Fudge was a small and slightly dumpy man with grey hair and watery grey eyes. He wore a bottle-green suit and shiny black shoes. Quite why he was dressed to impress boggled Sirius, as he doubted the Dementors cared for human fashions.

"Why, hello there Minister Fudge." Sirius said hoarsely, "Time for your yearly visit already? My, how time flies."

Fudge stopped cold when Sirius spoke to him and slowly turned to face him. The portly man stared at Sirius in blatant astonishment, his eyes almost popping out in shock.

Sirius raised an eyebrow in query, snapping Fudge out of his daze.

"Yes…yes, it is that time of year again." the Minister replied, still mildly surprised that a High Security prisoner still had the sanity to converse normally.

"It would be nice if there was a calendar or something here." Sirius remarked, "I can't even remember how long it has been since…"

"Almost thirteen years." Fudge informed him with slightly too much relish to be considered polite, "Long may it continue."

"I suppose you would wish for that, Minister." Sirius replied with a toothy smile, which increased his resemblance to a skeleton, "However, this place is quite literally hell, so you'll pardon me for not agreeing with you."

"I wouldn't expect you to." Fudge retorted.

"Seriously though, Dementors to one side, this place is just _boring_." Sirius said with an airy dismissal of the foul creatures with one hand, "The nightmares and the despair are one thing, but the boredom is quite another."

Espying the Daily Prophet that Fudge had under his arm, Sirius took advantage of the man's stupefaction to ask, "Have you finished with that Daily Prophet, Minister? I've missed doing the crossword. Shame I don't have any quills or ink, but you can't have everything…"

Slowly, Fudge withdrew the newspaper from under his arm and passed it through the bars to Sirius, who accepted it with a courteous nod.

"So then Minister, are the polls up?" Sirius asked politely.

"Eh? Oh, yes, they are as a matter of fact." Fudge replied after he shook himself out of his shock again, "Up by three percent, if memory serves."

"Well that's nice for you." Sirius said, "If you'll take a bit of advice from me, you should turn back now and end your visit early. I overheard my _dear_ _cousin_ Bella saying that she was going to spit on you when you walked past her cell."

"Oh…my thanks." Fudge nodded, "See you next year then, Black."

With that, Fudge swirled around and walked back the way he came with a swish of his cloak. Sirius sighed and settled down to read the paper. The headline caught his attention.

'**MINISTRY OFFICIAL WINS JACKPOT**

_Arthur Weasley, Head of the Improper Use of Muggle Artefacts Office of the Ministry of Magic, has won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Draw of 700 Galleons._'

Next to the headline was a picture of the Weasley Family in Egypt, where they were on holiday.

"Blimey Arthur, you've certainly been busy." Sirius muttered. He knew the effable man from the occasional meeting while he had escorted Lily and James to the Healers while Lily was pregnant with Harry. Arthur had taken Molly there as well when she was pregnant with their sixth or seventh child, he couldn't remember which.

In the picture, he could see the large family grinning and waving. He scanned down the line. Oh? Twins like Gideon and Fabian? Molly must have her hands full with them…urgh, a Head Boy in the family…

Sirius froze as he saw the picture of what had to be the youngest son. He was a tall, lanky boy with a rat perched on his shoulder.

A rat with a missing toe on one of his forepaws.

A growl emerged from Sirius' throat that made him sound like his Animagus form.

"_Wormtail!_" he snarled.

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**Next Chapter: Blackout**

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